


Held Captive

by kazul9



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Plant Wrote This, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF Katsuki Yuuri, Consensual Kidnapping, Don’t copy to another site, Dorks in Love, M/M, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Thief Katsuki Yuuri, WHY is that not already a tag??? You've failed me fandom, Warning will be on the chapter, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-10-27 23:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17776388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazul9/pseuds/kazul9
Summary: Yuuri’s a thief who’s never been caught, skilled enough that no one even knows there’s a singular thief striking all the royalty in the city. That is until his trap to get his greatest prize, the one that means he’ll never have to steal again, ends with him knocking out and not-quite-kidnapping Prince Victor at the masquerade ball he’d infiltrated.Except that in the end, Victor wishes that Yuuri had kidnapped him. He’s safely returned to the palace even if he’s extremely unhappy about it. But there’s not much he can do when the man who’s caught his interest is one of the most elusive thieves… Right?AKA fantasy Thief!Yuuri and Prince!Victor AU, with some magic thrown in for good measure!





	1. Victor

Being only _technically_ a prince should mean that Victor can get away with skipping these things. After all, he’s sure Mila's done it. Georgi's already disappeared after drunkenly sobbing over his Anya again, despite the fact that it's been three years since he’s last seen her. Yuri's at least still lingering around, but he has the demeanor of a feral cat that can't be bothered with stuffy adults, the likes of which include Victor.

And Victor can't blame him, really. He'd rather not be stuck with himself either.

"Don't even think about it." Yakov appears at his side. For being the king's advisor, he spends an awful lot of time lingering around and babysitting other royalty.

Victor sighs. “I know.”

He doesn't have to look at the man to feel Yakov's eyebrow raise. “No fight?”

“It's too predictable, nowadays.” Victor waves his hand in an attempt at nonchalance, even as the hollow in his chest seems to grow and crack. He has quite luxurious chambers for his stay at the palace, and all he wants is to retreat to them and enjoy a glass of wine while cuddling with Makkachin. He doesn’t think it’s too much to ask, but he knows better than to think he’d get away with it.

The ball is in celebration of the foreign dignitaries coming to sign something or other that Victor’s probably read all about but can’t be bothered to remember at the moment. He’ll be a negotiator for his country, one of the most important ones with his particular brand of magic, and it’s important he shows up every chance he can. He’ll impress them with pretty speech and prettier clothes and vapid smiles, get on their good sides, play the game.

Well, he’s sick and he’s tired of the game.

Yakov glares at him, obviously not buying it. Still, he nods, satisfied that Victor won’t get into any more trouble than usual, and finds his next target—probably poor Yuri, wherever he may be now.

“With that face, I would almost think you weren’t enjoying my party, dear.”

A hand slides around Victor’s waist, and ends with a grab at his ass.

Victor sighs. “It’s a lovely party, Chris.”

Chris glances up through thick eyelashes, green eyes set off by the sparkling gold and emerald jewels set into his mask. “You sound so very sincere about that.”

Victor bites his tongue to stop himself from sighing again. “It is lovely. I’m just…”

Chris’s eyebrows raise. “Just?”

“It’s nothing. It’s beautiful, the food is wonderful, and the entertainment is fantastic.” Victor tries not to snap, he really does, but even he can tell the words come out short.

Chris sniffs. “You don’t have to lie to me. To think, I had considered us friends, of all things.”

“Well, it’s the truth, I’m just…” Victor struggles to find the words, find the problem. There isn’t a problem. He lives comfortably. He has Makkachin to come home to at night. He may not particularly enjoy his job, but who does, really?

“That damned ‘just’ again.” Chris lets out a sigh of his own. “Won’t you even try to have fun? Dance?”

Victor opens his mouth, closes it, and grasps at any excuse he can find. “Won’t your fiancé get jealous?”

“You and I both know that he’s not like that. Besides, I wasn’t talking about me.” Chris smirks. “I was talking about your admirer.”

Victor stiffens, even while Chris turns him toward the dance floor. “What?”

Rather than speak, he gestures out toward where a few couples lazily spin across the floor. At first he can’t find anything, eyes scanning over the crowd once, twice—

And then catching on warm brown irises, staring at him so intently that heat shocks through him despite himself. The moment stretches, long and languid as he can’t break the contact, sucking in a breath in an attempt to keep himself breathing.

“Are you all right, friend?” Chris’s hand falls on his shoulder.

He jumps, turning to look over at him. “Um, what?”

Chris chuckles. “Finally found something that catches your eye?”

Victor’s not entirely sure who caught _whose_ eye, but the word “caught” feels weak considering how sternly his gaze was taken away from him. And how much his body strains to look back.

But there are foreign dignitaries there, and there are norms to keep. “Do you know him, Chris?”

“Oh, well.” Chris’s grin grows. “You could say something like that.”

Victor opens his mouth to ask, drag as much information from Chris as he can before he completely loses his control and walks right over to the man—when he notices that a figure’s moved into their bubble.

It’s the man, eyes twinkling between the lights of the chandeliers and the artfully placed stones along his mask, flowing off the right side of his face like a wing. He’s shorter than Victor, and yet Victor feels cowed next to the sly smirk of his red lips, how his black suit clings in all the right places, glitters with gemstones across his shoulder, and… lord, is that _mesh_? And yet somehow tasteful. Just like, Victor imagines, the man himself.

“My prince,” the man murmurs, bowing and sending a shiver right up Victor’s spine.

Chris chuckles again, but Victor barely registers it as the man looks up through long eyelashes, crow-black hair pushed back from his forehead as if to give Victor a perfect view.

“Will you dance with me?” Victor can barely manage the words, all coming out in one breath.

The man blinks, eyes widening for only a second before his lashes lower again. “I—Of course, my prince.”

Victor holds out his hand, trying not to smile too brightly and probably failing spectacularly. “Call me Victor.”

As the man’s lips part once again in surprise, Victor vows to surprise him as often as he possibly can throughout the night. Anything to see that expression again.

He reaches out, fingertips grazing Victor’s palm before taking his hand. “Then you may call me Yuuri.”

Gripping his fingers as tight as he dares without hurting the man— _Yuuri_ —he walks them to the dance floor, somehow not colliding with anyone on the way. His eyes are only for Yuuri, and he’s sure that Yuuri’s eyes don’t leave him. And before he knows it, they’re immersed in the dance, so close and yet not close enough.

“Do you come to the palace often, Yuuri?” He tries to purr, but it probably comes out more like a gasp as he tries to deal with the onslaught of warmth growing in his chest.

“Rarely.” Yuuri smiles, a small and secretive thing. “I much prefer the estates in the country. So much quieter, easier to relax in.”

Victor nods, the movement heavy and awkward as he attempts to stay graceful on his feet. “They tend to be quite reclusive, in a pleasant way.”

“Do you visit yours very often?” Yuuri tilts his head, showing off a beautiful pale neck that Victor nearly leans down to—

 _No_ , no that is not even remotely appropriate. And foreign dignitaries are here, appearances and… something else important. Probably. Maybe. Does it even matter? He swallows. “Unfortunately not. Work has been… overwhelming. For a long time.”

Too long. So long that he doesn’t know how to handle this, how to cope with honest attraction. Though if he’s being truthful, has he ever felt like this for anyone before? Could he be so deprived of emotion after doing the numbing work of his job for so long that he just can’t tell what’s normal anymore?

Well, normal or not, he hasn’t enjoyed himself like this in so long. The party seems livelier, full of the flashing colors of suits and dresses and masks instead of the numbing light and precious shadows for Victor to slink into, and his steps feel inspired, lither than any of the moves he forced himself through with the few people he dared not refuse a dance with—and even with that, he finds himself caring less about the quality of the steps and rather how light they make him feel.

“Maybe you should visit sometime soon. The country air is good for you.” Yuuri leans in a little closer, his tone lowering just slightly. “I’ll be frank, I haven’t seen anything in the palace that’s as breathtaking as the nature I’m sure I’d see out there.”

“Oh?” Victor barely even wants to make a sound, but more than anything wants Yuuri to continue speaking. “How long have you been staying in the palace?”

Yuuri shakes his head, mask shifting just slightly. “I’m not staying at the palace, my family owns a house in the city for when we visit. Alas, this ballroom and the hallways leading here are all I’ve seen.”

“And what do you think would impress you?” Victor leans in a little closer himself.

Yuuri’s breath catches a little, sending Victor’s heart racing. “I… Well. I’ve heard that with the dignitaries visiting, the royal family has put the crown jewels on display. My family isn’t very rich, I can’t even _imagine_ what the wealth of the royal family might look like.”

“Oh, that’s all?” Victor grins as they spin across the dance floor. He might have been contemplating plucking a star from the sky if that might entice Yuuri into keeping his interest in Victor, even if his magic is nowhere near impressive enough for such a feat. “I’d love to show you that. We could go right now—?”

“After this dance?” Yuuri’s tone rises, seductive hum giving away to something pleading and… temptingly real.

Victor has to consciously remind himself to keep moving as his grin spreads so wide that it burns his cheeks. “Of course.”

They sway and step to the music, and it takes until that moment, without Yuuri’s lovely voice to distract him, for Victor to notice how amazingly he moves, practiced and refined.

“Do you study dance, by any chance?” Victor manages to ask.

Yuuri just grins, a wicked thing, before dipping Victor low.

A laugh bubbles out of him, spreading from his chest throughout his whole body as Yuuri lifts him back up.

“Maybe a little,” Yuuri admits, smile more earnest now.

“Well,” Victor spins his companion out, drawing him back. “You’re a constant series of surprises, aren’t you?”

Yuuri huffs a laugh. “You have no idea.”

The music begins to wind down, and Victor doesn’t attempt any further conversation, content to enjoy Yuuri’s body moving with his, in sync and spurring him on, until the music ends.

Victor’s heart drops, leaving a hollow in its wake—until he realizes that Yuuri isn’t leaving immediately, that he’s promised more of his time to Victor.

He leans forward, clutching the man’s hand close. “Follow me.”

A flush spreads gently across Yuuri’s cheeks and _oh_ Victor wants to reach out and feel the heat under his fingertips—but, they’ll be alone and away from the crowd in only a moment.

They wind through the dancers pairing up for the next dance, barely noticed as the alcohol of the evening is noticeably taking effect. Victor takes Yuuri through the winding paths that he only knows from growing up here, nodding to guards as they pass set after set, knowing that no one could possibly manage to hope to so much as locate the jewels among the maze, much less make it out past all the guards.

Otherwise, it’s quiet. The hand in his is warm, so warm, setting his heart hammering in his chest violently enough that he’s surprised Yuuri doesn’t comment on it.

Belatedly, it strikes Victor that he could lead Yuuri anywhere, could take him back to his own chambers if he wanted. There’s no way he would know, considering that he is completely unfamiliar with the palace. He is trusting Victor.

So Victor won’t let him down.

And if he might be interested in seeing Victor’s chambers afterward, well… he wouldn’t complain.

“Here,” he says softly, opening the door to the small room beyond and gesturing for Yuuri to enter first.

Yuuri stares at him for a moment, brown eyes wide, before walking in and gasping. “They’re gorgeous.”

Victor simply smiles, following him into the room and staring at the crystals with him. The crystals themselves are fairly unremarkable, cheap even. But the magic cast on them is priceless. They grace those who possess them with strength and beauty and safety—things that sound simple, but are nearly impossible to achieve in a magical sense. Not to mention for the enchantment to last so many generations after it was initially cast? The magic that runs through Victor’s family is strong, but he doubts he’ll ever see magic that powerful again.

“I never thought I’d see them.” Yuuri reaches out a hand to the glass case, almost as if he wants to touch, but not quite daring to do so. “They’re breathtaking.”

“Not as breathtaking as you.” The words leave Victor’s mouth before he can truly stop them, and honestly, he wouldn’t take them back if he could.

Yuuri gapes. “Y-you can’t mean that?”

Victor just smiles. “You’re the only person in that ballroom that I wanted to dance with.” He’ll be spoiled to dancing with anyone else for the rest of his life, but he’s not about to complain about that fact.

“I…” Yuuri gulps, eyes shining in the dim light. “Victor, I—”

The sound of stomping boots echoes in the hallway outside, startling them both.

Victor tentatively reaches out, taking Yuuri’s hand again. “How about we go somewhere else? Where it’s quieter, easier to talk.”

That delicious blush spreads across Yuuri’s cheeks again, but for some reason he looks away. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Are you sure?” Victor frowns. Yuuri never seemed so timid before.

Yuuri nods though, so Victor gently tugs him out of the room, pondering where to take him. If he’s so nervous, then he’d have to cross his chambers off the list of places to go—no matter how many rooms he has. Then again, if anyone’s good at making people comfortable, it would have to be his Makkachin…

“Oh!” Yuuri squeaks, dropping Victor’s hand.

Victor pauses and turns, biting his tongue against the assumptions running through his brain. Yuuri’s changed his mind. But maybe Victor can at least convince him to dance again, get his last name and address so he can come calling and see him outside of the menacing maze of the palace.

“I think one of the gems fell off my suit. It, um, it isn’t as expensive as most, but it’s a bit of a family heirloom—it must’ve fallen off while I was leaning over the jewels. I-I’ll just be a moment, let me grab it.” And he takes off.

And Victor finally breathes. He’s not going to run from Victor. Well, he literally did, but maybe he just needs a moment. He’ll have to be clear about his intentions when Yuuri comes back, so that he doesn’t feel nervous. Victor would never force anything onto him, Yuuri isn’t something to be conquered.

But what if Victor not being clear is what lead to Yuuri fleeing? He might have honestly lost a part of his suit, though Victor hasn’t noticed anything missing. But that would be no reason to scurry away so quickly.

Victor frowns. He doesn’t want to push, but he _should_ be clear. He can’t let this end when he only knows Yuuri’s given name and barely anything beyond that.

Straightening his shoulders, Victor follows after Yuuri, tracing their steps back into the room with the jewels.

The man is bent over the jewels, admiring them again like a moth to a flame.

Victor smiles. He really did enjoy them. “Yuuri, I—”

Yuuri glances up, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

And only then does Victor notice the knife in his hand, glowing with a magic that he’s sure if he looked closer would be enough to cut through the enchantments of the glass.

Before he can get a word in edgewise, Yuuri’s moving, movements more lithe and more divine than even on the dance floor before he launches himself into the air and his foot connects with Victor’s face.

His last thought before he completely loses consciousness is that Yuuri’s legs are absolutely lovely and he should’ve been appreciating them more throughout the evening than he has been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Why is "Consensual Kidnapping" not already a tag???~~  
>     
> *waves* Thank you to everyone who's checking out this fic! I wrote this SIX MONTHS AGO!!! (For anyone who knows my other work, before I started even writing my current fic! Eons ago!!!) I'm so happy and so terrified to finally be posting. :D
> 
> So you may have noticed the FABULOUS art in this chapter, which was by the wonderful Alli! Check it out over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nikiforoov/status/1104115950310301696) and [Tumblr](http://nikiforoov.net/post/183319004445/yuuris-a-thief-whos-never-been-caught-skilled)!!!!! I just about died when they showed it to me, let me tell you. ~~I would kill for a poster of it on my wall.~~
> 
> Thank you to Blue for betaing this chapter! And thank you to everyone who's giving this fic a shot!!! <3 FYI, my great-grandma is in the hospital and it's messing me up really bad, so it may take me a minute to reply to comments--but they honestly mean the world to me, and keep me going through times like this.
> 
> Anyhow, the next chapter will be up in two days! See you then! :D
> 
> [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/hmvKrGp) | [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/kazul9/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Kazul9) | [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Kazul9) | [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GNsq9EZDyuEjoc8WW2Ssc)


	2. Yuuri

“So you knocked him out… and then decided to bring him here?” Phichit cocks an eyebrow.

“I, um.” Yuuri glances between where he set Victor gently down on the floor of their hideout, and Phichit’s face. “Yes? I mean, he could have been hurt, and if I was the one to hurt him… I just wanted to fix it?”

“You do know they have healers in the castle, right?” Phichit sighs, shaking his head.

“I know.” Of course they would, and there would be guards to protect him, he might not even remember Yuuri’s face—though he kinda wishes that he’d remember. “But he’s… Lord, I incapacitated Victor Nikiforov. _Prince_ Victor Nikiforov.”

“I’m well aware,” Phichit says dryly.

Yuuri can’t take his eyes off the prince’s sleeping form, his mind replaying the whole night over and over and over in his mind, unavoidably leading up to where Yuuri completely breaks Victor’s trust and tries to steal the crown jewels out from under his nose.

He needs the jewels, there was no other option. He’d betray Victor again for another shot at them—he may be absolutely gorgeous, and kind, and sweet and… “What if I hurt him more seriously than just knocking him out? He’s too… he’s too _him_ for this to happen. I’m a terrible, awful person. I should hand myself over and—”

“Yuuri, slow down.” Phichit grabs Yuuri’s shoulder. “Yuuko looked him over, and Victor will be fine when he wakes up. Look, maybe you should move him to a room or something before he wakes up. It’s been hours, and we can’t get him back to the palace until evening at the soonest, so, uh. Just make sure he’s comfortable. Okay? I’ll go talk with Minako.”

The heat rushes from Yuuri’s face. Minako. She needs to know, and honestly he should be the one going to tell her, but… he’s not ready to see her just yet, not with a passed out prince at his feet. It’s not as if she won’t be tracking him down later, anyway. “Thanks, Phichit.”

“Of course! What are best friends for, if not helping kidnap handsome princes.” He winks, then starts to walk away.

“I didn’t—we’re not kidnapping him!” Yuuri clenches his fists, scowling as Phichit walks away. Chris only got him into the castle to steal the jewels, and that took more persuading and resources than he ever cares to think about again. He seemed fairly nonchalant about the whole thing, but kidnapping the prince might push him over the edge and force him to report what he knows about Yuuri and the group. Honestly, he _should_. There’s a difference between stealing items that people don’t really need, and people with lives and friends and family to get back to and—

Victor groans.

A spike of cold shoots through Yuuri and he snatches the man up from the ground, starting down and through the dark hallways made of worn wood and cobwebs. Victor is extremely light, too light if you ask Yuuri. If only they were closer to his parents’ business, he would sit Victor down and make him eat his mom’s katsudon—

No. No, no, no. He might not be kidnapped, but he isn’t Yuuri’s guest either. It was bad enough to give Victor his name, his _real_ name and not the nicknames that the team have been preparing him to use for ages, and now he is _very_ here, and _very_ passed out. And… there’s only one place that Yuuri can think to take him where he’ll be comfortable and no one will accidentally intrude and be seen.

He shifts Victor to hold him with one arm, and opens the door to his room. It’s small, and he only has a few possessions. Some clothes shoved into a crate, a few knick knacks and trinkets from his and Phichit’s adventures, and the cot he sleeps on, covered by the blanket that his mom made him before he left home. It used to smell like his house and his family, of sun-warmed wood and slightly sulfuric steam, and the sweet-salty aromas of the kitchen, but now it only smells of must and disuse.

Still, it’s more comfortable than the floor that Victor was on before, so Yuuri lays him down as delicately as you can lay down any adult that’s at least a few inches taller than yourself.

He means to move away once he’s done, maybe wait on the other side of the room, or the door, until Victor shows any sign of being awake, but he hesitates. There are bags beneath Victor’s eyes, like he could use the nap, no matter how impromptu or against his will it was. He’s still beautiful though, with his high cheekbones and a jawline that could probably slice through rock, honestly. His hair looks so soft too, the silky silver strands of his bangs falling across his face, catching on his nose. It has to tickle.

Gently, ever so gently, Yuuri reaches out and moves the hair aside, fingertips brushing against the warmth of Victor’s skin and sending a soft shiver down his spine as they linger. Such simple contact shouldn’t affect him like this, not after having carried the man through half the night and across the city, but it does. It’s probably the only time he’ll see Victor so at peace, considering he’s bound to be angry at Yuuri when he wakes up. Nobody would react to kidnapping well, even if it’s a not-quite kidnapping.

“Like what you see?”

Yuuri’s gaze snaps to Victor’s eyes and _oh_ , he’s forgotten how gorgeous and somehow warm that they were when they settle on him and _dammit all, he’s still touching Victor and he’s awake_.

With a squeak, Yuuri scrambles back, across the tiny room until he’s collapsed with his back pressed firmly to the wall. “S-sorry! I’m so sorry.”

“For knocking me out, or touching my face?” Victor’s voice is gravelly with sleep, and paired with his half-amused smirk, it’s doing strange things to Yuuri’s stomach.

“Um.” Yuuri’s brain scrambles, trying to put together words. “Both?”

“A shame,” Victor mumbles, gently rubbing the side of his head as he sits up. “Where am I?”

Yuuri’s brain whirrs even faster, trying to wrap his head around how being sorry for either of those things would be a _shame_. “I, er, can’t tell you that. But you’re safe. I had a healer look you over, and you’ll be okay.” He bites his lip before he can start rambling again.

Victor’s quiet for a minute as his eyes move, observing his surroundings, maybe looking for a way out. The door can’t lock from this side, so if he tried to make a break for it, Yuuri might have to knock him out again. Or tie him up? Oh no, nope, that would be so much worse.

Eventually, Victor’s focus falls onto Yuuri’s slightly flushed face. “You tricked me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did, and I’m so sorry. I needed to, if I didn’t get something worth a good amount, I wouldn’t—“ He bites down on his tongue. Victor already knows too much. Giving him more information would get the whole gang caught, easily. Yuuri looks down at the floor. “I’m really sorry. I don’t expect you to believe or forgive me, but I am.”

Victor’s quiet, shifting slightly on the cot. “I’ll forgive you if you dance with me again.”

Yuuri splutters. “I just kidnapped you!”

“Oh, you’re going to ransom me off?” He grins, but it’s more like an imitation of what Yuuri saw last night, a stretching of lips across teeth. “How exciting.”

“No, no!” Yuuri waves hands, trying and failing to back further into the wall. “Absolutely not! I was just worried after, um. Kicking you. And you fell unconscious. I thought I’d hurt you.”

Victor raises an eyebrow. “You know, the guards would’ve found me and made sure I was all right at the palace.”

Yuuri puts face in his hands. Lord, he’s so dumb. “Don’t remind me.” He can’t believe any of this happened. How did everyone think it was a good idea to send Yuuri, of all people, on this heist? He needs the money, he needs it desperately. But Yuuri seducing someone, anyone, but _especially_ a prince into revealing the location of the jewels was a ridiculous concept in general, he should have said no. Maybe he could have worked himself to the bone doing other jobs instead. Who needs sleep, anyway? But now there’s a poor, innocent prince sitting on his bed and he needs to sneak him safely back into the palace. Somehow. He takes a shaky breath. “I’m really so sorry.”

Victor hums, as if dismissing his apology.

Yuuri’s heart sinks. Of course. It’s not like he could see himself believing his kidnapper in this sort of situation. Yuuri used him, and would have run away with the most valuable item in the country and left Victor to hopefully slip away with none of the blame and only a wounded pride—it was a part of Chris’ conditions, after all. Honestly, he should have stayed and taken the jewels _and_ Victor, but the panic ate away at all sensible thought and only left him with the need to know Victor was okay.

He’s pathetic, and he knows it.

“Are you sorry about dancing with me?”

Yuuri glances up, mouth hanging open until he snaps it shut. “No! I mean, I’m sorry I used you. Like I said, I needed to. But nothing I ever said was a lie, and…” And Yuuri was a kid who dreamed about dances with princes and princesses while doing chores for the family business, dreamed about castles and music and clothes finer than he’d ever see in his life. And when he saw the young prince one day in the palace gardens shortly after he’d began pickpocketing, those fantasies became more targeted, even as they became more unrealistic. Maybe a prince might dance with a peasant, but not with a criminal. Not with Yuuri. Still… he got to live that dream, and even if it was a lie, even if it could never be real, it was special. “I don’t regret dancing with you, I never could. I wouldn’t want to dance with anyone else in the whole palace,” Yuuri whispers, a confession he knows won’t mean anything to the prince, but the world to himself. “I don’t regret it, even if I didn’t get the jewels.”

Victor sits a little straighter, clasping his hands together. “Really?”

“Um, really what? Which part?” Yuuri shrinks down a little. Why did he say that out loud? At least he’ll never see Victor ever again after this.

“All of it.” Victor’s eyes are wide, brighter than they were even back in the ballroom.

Yuuri’s breathing picks up, despite the fact that Victor absolutely has to despise his very existence. “Yeah. It is. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Victor beams. “Kidnap me!”

“ _What_.” It’s not even a question as it falls from Yuuri’s lips, more of a denial than anything.

“You said you didn’t get the jewels, right? Well, that was my fault and I’d like to make that right.” He gets up from the bed, coming to kneel in front of Yuuri. “I may be far removed from being next in line to the throne, but they need me for the ongoing negotiations with Leroy. I doubt you'll get the amount you would from the jewels, I'm afraid my coffers don’t even run that deep. But it should be a decent amount.”

Yuuri’s numb. Maybe he’s losing his mind. Somehow he still has the sense to shake his head. “I, uh, don’t kidnap people. At all. Period.”

“But you steal things, yes?” Victor’s grin doesn’t so much as falter.

“Um, yes?”

“Then just think of it as stealing me!” Victor leans in a little closer, brushing his fingertips along Yuuri’s cheek, like Yuuri had done when he thought the man was passed out. “I’d like to spend more time with you, Yuuri. And you need the money. It seems like a good deal to me.” He moves in closer, to the point that Yuuri feels his warm breath against his skin. “Please?”

A whimper escapes Yuuri’s lips, which only makes Victor’s grin sharper, like he’s won.

And oh, is it tempting when he says it like that. That he wants to get to know Yuuri, and… and…

Yuuri stands up so fast that he nearly knocks Victor over. “I have to, uh, check on things! Don’t think of leaving this room, it’ll be locked. But also, if you need anything, just knock—you are _not_ kidnapped, but we have to wait until evening, and, um, yeah.”

And he bolts from the room, collapsing against the door on the outside. His limp, shock-filled body should give Victor enough trouble if he tries to get out.

What on earth just happened? The first part of the conversation was perfectly normal, for the situation. Victor absolutely shouldn’t trust him. But then _he_ suggests being kidnapped? Getting to know Yuuri? Maybe he kicked Victor harder in the head than he realized. Though Yuuko would have been able to tell if that sort of damage had been done… Perhaps he’s a thrill seeker? That has to be it.

“You okay there?”

Yuuri jumps what feels like a foot in the air before he finally sees Phichit beside him. He scowls. It’s not fair when he uses his magic to catch him off guard when he's stuck in his head. “I. Uh. Victor wants me to kidnap him?”

Phichit gives a wicked grin. “On a first name basis with the prince?”

Yuuri hides his face in his hands. “He told me to call him Victor while we were dancing.”

Phichit chuckles. “Well, I guess he is known for being a flirt. Did he scare you out with his advances?”

“Um, maybe?” Yuuri glances up.

And Phichit grins down. “Well, it’s just about sunset, and Minako wants him out as soon as humanly possible, so you don’t have to put up with him much longer. Here,” he holds out a couple wads of cloth, “make sure he doesn’t see anything or you’ll be in even bigger trouble. I don’t have to tell you what that means.”

Yuuri gulps, but nods as he takes the gag and the sack. He wants to grimace and insist they be more civilized, but he is the one who got them into this mess in the first place. There’s not much room for him to protest without further consequences.

“Go get ‘em, tiger.” Phichit smirks before walking away.

With a deep breath, Yuuri stands up and eyes the items in his hands. This makes it all feel a lot more like a kidnapping, even if it’s all technically to get Victor back home. Hopefully this discourages that flirting, if that’s what that was. Maybe he’s just trying to charm his way out of the situation? Though asking to _be_ kidnapped is kinda the opposite of that. But it’s not like he could honestly be flirting with Yuuri. On top of being a thief that kidnapped him slightly, he’s plain and boring and quite frankly he _needed_ that mask and suit last night to make him appear special. Though he probably squinted way too much without his glasses.

Before he can dig any deeper into his own head, he opens the door and steps in.

“You know,” Victor waves his hand casually from where he lies on the bed, “that door is very thin. And I’d like to make it clear that I don’t just flirt with anyone.”

Yuuri can only stare. “Only with thieves that try to pilfer your castle and then knock you out?”

“No, only cute men who dance like a dream and take care of me after they strike me with their gorgeous legs.” And he _winks_.

Yuuri sighs. He never thought he’d be grateful to be able to gag someone, but here he is.

“Oh, you’re going to gag and sack me?” Victor sits up, eyes flicking between Yuuri’s face and the fabric in his hands as a smile spreads across his face. “You changed your mind about kidnapping me?”

Yuuri hesitates, but shakes his head. “It’s time to get you back before…” Before Chris decides to turn them over, before they’re all hunted down, before Victor finally convinces someone to kidnap him.

Victor just sighs. “Very well. I suppose I don’t mind being bound and gagged if you’re the one doing it.”

Yuuri chokes on his own tongue, backing up against the door. “I’m not _binding_ you! We just… you can’t make noise.”

Victor grins, but thankfully, _thankfully_ , doesn’t take the bait that Yuuri only just realizes he threw out there.

Before either of them can change their mind, Yuuri rushes forward and holds the gag out, delicately wrapping it around Victor’s head. “Just, uh, tell me if it’s too tight.”

Victor looks up through his eyelashes in a way that sets Yuuri’s face on fire and makes his hands work faster. He checks the knot, then picks up the glorified sack again, whispering another apology as he puts it over Victor’s head, even if Victor’s body language seems oddly relaxed throughout the whole thing. Yuuri has half a mind to open his mouth and scold him, that he shouldn’t trust Yuuri considering that he barely knows him, but he doesn’t have the heart to say it aloud. This is the last time he’ll ever see Victor, after all.

“Here, stand up.” Yuuri supports Victor as he gets to his feet, holding him steady as he gets his bearings. “Do you think you can walk?”

Victor’s still for a minute, then nods.

Yuuri bites his lip, fingers twitching to take the hood off. He _can’t_ though. “You won’t have to go far, it’ll just be easier if we wait until we’re at the door.”

Victor’s head tilts a bit in a silent question, but Yuuri doesn’t make to answer. Even if he could, he wouldn’t spill that secret. He might’ve shown Victor his face and given him his name, but his magic is _his_.

Well, his and Minako’s.

They pass a few people in the narrow hall, but Yuuri doesn’t dare meet their eyes. It’s not like they can start heckling him for his failed heist yet when they don’t want Victor to hear their voices. This is the first time there’s been a stranger in here—recruits aren’t even allowed here until after years of training. It’s better to be safe than sorry, after all.

Eventually they climb the stairs and exit into the shop front that the group hides behind, dim light filtering into the empty and wide front room, dust motes floating around chairs and settling onto the worn carpet. Plenty dark. They walk over to the door, and Yuuri cracks it open and props it there with a rock before turning to face Victor.

“I’m going to carry you the rest of the way, all right?” Yuuri gives Victor’s arm a gentle squeeze.

Victor doesn’t nod or shake his head, instead going as stiff as a board.

Yuuri frowns. “I won’t drop you. I carried you all the way here. It’ll be faster going my way.” It might’ve taken a while getting him there, but this time not having to actually go inside the palace and avoid light and guards will help.

Ever so slowly, Victor gives him a nod.

Still, he looks too uncomfortable for Yuuri’s taste. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Victor seems to relax a little more, nodding faster this time.

Good. Yuuri guides Victor’s arms around his neck, then lifts him up by his thighs.

Victor makes a muffled noise at that.

“Sorry, I didn’t warn you.” Yuuri adjusts his grip, and it’s _much_ weirder doing this while he’s awake. “Are you okay?”

Victor nods vigorously, chin tapping Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri’s cheeks warm, and he’s grateful no one can see it. “Well then, hold on tight.”

With a steadying breath, as the first tolls of the nearby church’s bell begin to count the hour, Yuuri takes a step toward the cracked door and falls into the shadows.

It’s harder before it’s completely dark out, less swimming through lightless areas and more trudging through the mud of sunset, but he makes sure that his pace is quick enough that no one will catch a glimpse of how the shadows grow thicker and trail behind where Yuuri slinks through the darkness.

Victor’s arms tighten around Yuuri’s neck, enough so that he considers prying him off to get a good breath. He doesn’t, though, the first time he gave half of himself away to the shadows still fresh on his mind. He doesn’t remember how odd it’s supposed to feel anymore, but he does remember the fear that crawled through him as he realized he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to be fully human again.

He should’ve known then that there would be no escaping Minako and her crew, when his magical gift presented like that.

Before he can be too asphyxiated by the darkness, he pulls their forms through the gates of the palace, dragging them into the darker shadows of the tall hedges of the garden between the gates and the castle itself, where the bushes can hide their physical forms better.

“It’s over,” Yuuri murmurs as he plucks them from the darkness, gently letting Victor’s legs slide to the ground.

They’re shaky beneath him as Yuuri pulls the sack off of his head, making quick work of the gag.

“I’m sorry.” Yuuri can’t make himself look up to meet Victor’s eyes as he pockets the fabric. “I know that had to be jarring.”

Victor works his jaw for a moment, still steadying himself on Yuuri’s shoulder. “That was… Wow. You should stop apologizing so much.”

Yuuri blinks up at him. “I kind of have a lot to be sorry for?”

“I’m not sorry for any of it.” A small grin flits across Victor’s face, and the words lack the teasing edge of his earlier comments.

He… _enjoyed_ this? “You should probably head inside. I’m sure they’re missing you by now.”

“You know, it’s still not too late to kidnap me.”

Yuuri laughs, but stops quickly enough when the humor isn’t matched by Victor. “I… can’t. But, um, thank you for offering.”

Victor stares down at him, the nearly faded light painting everything about his ruffled form in a sepia that makes the whole ordeal seem dream-like. “Anytime.”

Before he can change his mind, before Victor says something or does something that makes him do something stupid, Yuuri gives Victor a little push in the direction of the palace.

By the time Victor can turn around to look at him and say goodbye, Yuuri’s already stepped into the shadows and speeds as fast as he can back to Minako’s hideout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!!! This'll probably be the shortest length of time between chapters, since I typically post in the morning, unless life happens. :D But now we have Yuuri's side of the story! Oh look, they're both dorks, who knew.
> 
> Thank you to Blue for betaing another chapter! :D And thank you guys for the warm reception for this project, holy cow!!! I was _not_ expecting this project to do so well, and your support means everything. <3 Thank you (again)!!!
> 
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	3. Victor

“What the hell were you _doing_ in there?” Yuri hisses.

“Hmm?” Victor glances down at the teenager, straightening the jacket of his suit. “I was doing my job, thank you.”

“You did _nothing_. You’re lucky that we didn’t need you today.” Yakov huffs as he collapses into a seat, Mila and Georgi trailing into the small sitting room and shutting the door behind them.

Negotiations were going, well… as well as they could when Leroy was involved. The king and the country. It will be a mutually agreeable trade agreement, it should be a relatively short negotiation period—but that will still be a couple weeks of hosting and entertaining, and each country trying to assert its dominance and gain any sort of upper hand they can.

When he was younger, Victor enjoyed the mind games and casually undermining anything the other country did with sheer creativity—no one ever knew what he’d be up to, not even Yakov. Especially not Yakov. He had made it his life’s purpose to make the man go bald.

Now it’s more tiring than anything else. There are newer, fresher, younger minds playing those games, older wisdom to come to the same conclusions Victor could get to himself.

It’s been exhausting for a while. But it’s especially so after yesterday.

“It’s a good thing that we had no need of your magic.” Mila’s tone is cheerful as she settles down, pouring a cup of steaming tea that the servants must have brought in moments ago. “Because for once I agree with both Yuri and Yakov. Your head isn’t in this agreement.”

Well, it _isn’t,_ but can Victor really be blamed for that? “I _was_ kidnapped yesterday, after all.”

“And you’re the one who said you were fine enough to come to the meeting this morning!” Yuri spits, crossing his arms as a muscle twitches above his permanent scowl.

Well, he is fine. The palace healers have looked him over and pronounced him just as fine as Yuuri had. He’d trusted Yuuri well enough, but everyone else had insisted the word of a kidnapper was untrustworthy. Not that he’d really _been_ kidnapped. He only wishes he was.

Georgi gasps, startling nearly all of them. He’s apparently been in a nearly catatonic state since his inevitable meltdown at the ball, and Victor’s entirely happy he was able to miss out on that.

Though the way he stares at Victor with wide, wet eyes doesn’t seem particularly unresponsive.

“It’s love,” Georgi gasps, a tear escaping down his cheek.

Yuri’s scowl morphs into a grimace. “What the f—”

“Yuri, language!” Yakov snaps.

“You okay over there?” Mila raises an eyebrow, hiding her grin behind a sip of tea.

“Victor’s in love.” Georgi gives a sigh, leaning against the wall as if he couldn’t stand without it. “I’d recognize that look anywhere.”

Victor stiffens as every gaze turns back toward him. Love? He wasn’t sure Yuuri was anything other than infatuation, a pretty face to chase after, until he’d talked to him— _really_ talked to him and not the mask he hid behind at the ball, only catching glimpses of him in wide eyes and surprised catches of breath. And now it feels different than his isolated attractions, and not because of the entire not-kidnapping business.

But love is a heavy word to attach to a man that he’s not even sure he knows the true name of. Because he’s most definitely not a lord with an estate. It may have been one of the first things that Victor checked after he was done sleeping off the shock of the day and the ridiculous medical checks of all the healers.

“Aren’t you going to defend yourself, old man?” Yuri shifts on his feet, as if his skin isn’t quite comfortable.

“Why?” Victor arches an eyebrow. “It’s absurd.”

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the man you danced with?” Mila’s not even bothering to hide her amusement anymore. “The _only_ person you danced with beside the boring old farts you had to, and a total stranger at that.”

“This is ridiculous,” Victor mutters, wishing his words were true. Because he did spend the whole morning meetings thinking of soft brown eyes wide behind either a mask or large glasses and beautifully flushed cheeks no matter which version his mind conjured, trying to remember every sound of a voice he very well may never hear again.

“Is it?” Yakov’s voice is gruff, it’s always gruff, but it doesn’t sound unkind.

His most devious kind of trap.

Blessedly, a knock sounds at the door, and since Georgi’s too busy sobbing next to it and mumbling about “true love,” Victor strides quickly across the room, opening the door.

“Oh, so you _have_ arrived back safe and sound.” Chris leans against the doorframe in a way that he _obviously_ spent time thinking about.

“Lord Giacometti,” Yakov grumbles from inside. “Do you have business with us?”

“Other than being offended that the person I considered as my best friend could have been laying brutally murdered in some alley and I wouldn’t know because he didn’t bother to tell me?” He blinks innocently up at Victor. “No, not much.”

With a sigh, Victor turns back toward the room. “We’ve already discussed the details of the meeting on the way here, do you need me for anything else?”

The room is quiet, no one coming up with a decent excuse to continue torturing Victor in the two seconds he gives them.

“Good.” Victor steps out, closing the door behind him.

“Someone seems a little more agitated than normal.” Chris falls into stride beside Victor, despite his fast pace. “Are you truly as okay as the medics say you are?”

“Yes,” Victor snaps, then slows down a little. “No? I don’t know.”

Chris glances around the empty hallway, then drags Victor along until they’re through another doorway and inside… a small library? Victor had no idea there was one in this wing. It makes sense, though—they’re probably tomes of laws and wording and other such boring nonsense. Not the sort of books Victor would prefer to spend his time with, but does so often anyway.

“What happened?” Chris’s voice is gentle, more gentle than Victor’s ever heard it.

“Nothing.” Unfortunately. Victor scowls.

“Something happened, you were _kidnapped_.” Chris sighs. “Do you want help tracking them down? We could put a warrant out for the man’s arrest, I got a pretty good look at him and could help give a fairly decent description. Then it would only be a matter of time before their capture and trial, and you’ll be safe from fearing them.”

Victor shakes his head, his shoulders falling. “I’m not afraid of him. And I won’t put out a warrant for them. Don’t think you can convince me where everyone else failed to.”

Chris’s eyebrows raise. “Well, he did kidnap you.”

“I _wish_.” Victor huffs. Then catches himself. “He didn’t… Well, he didn’t mean to take me. He just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

For a moment, Chris stays silent. “Victor, that makes no sense. What on earth do you mean, ‘I wish?’”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Victor grumbles as he makes his way over to a nearby chair, collapsing into it. “The man at the ball, the one that you caught staring at me? He was after the royal jewels. He’s the one who took me. But it wasn’t a kidnapping.”

Victor pauses for Chris to react, but his lips simply form a thin line. Perhaps he heard about the room housing the jewels being disturbed in the guards’ reports. It doesn’t matter anyway, that’s not the part that’s really important. “Well, he tried to get me away from the room before he attempted to steal the jewels and make off, but like a fool I followed him and he seemed to get scared and react out of reflex and, well, he kicked me so hard I fell unconscious.”

Chris lets out a hiss. “He hurt you?”

“He apologized profusely for it.” Victor shrugs. “And I just have a small bump now. Not to mention I stopped him from stealing the jewels, which I…” Which he feels extremely terrible about. Which, really, he shouldn’t. There’s no reason to be sorry that something clearly belonging to someone else wasn’t stolen—not to mention it would make them appear weak and foolish in front of the Leroys, and Victor couldn’t imagine surviving King Leroy’s comments about the matter. Which there would be plenty. He clears his throat. “He was apparently so ridiculously worried about hurting me that he took me right to his own healer to check me over, and then promptly brought me back to the castle the moment he could.”

With a hum, Chris crosses the room to stand at Victor’s side and places a hand on his shoulder. “Then why on earth do you sound so _miserable_ about it?”

For a moment Victor considers keeping his feelings to himself, but there would be no hiding from Chris forever. There was never a man more persistent, save for maybe Victor himself when he got in a mood. “Because I _am_ miserable about it. For the first time in my recent memory, I had a marvelous time dancing with a beautiful man. And I’ll admit, I was scared when I first woke up, but I’d never met someone more kind and shy. So easy to tease, too! You’d think he’d be a bit tougher for being a thief, or constantly as sly as he acted at the ball. But instead I find my mind constantly wandering back to him and to the fact that I have absolutely no way of finding him again.” Victor leans forward, placing his face in his hands. An emptiness fills him as the confession leaves, and he can’t help but realize how silly he sounds.

Even if it doesn’t change his feelings in the slightest.

“And are you sure _that_ wasn’t a farce?”

Victor scoffs. “Chris, I scared him from a room by flirting with him.” His own room, if Victor was to guess. He wasn’t about to admit it to Chris, but the sheets smelled of the other man, a little woodsy and musky and quite unique to himself.

Chris hums softly, and Victor knows without looking up that he’s tilting his head, considering. “What did you say?”

“Well, I might have asked him to kidnap me.”

Chris laughs, jolting Victor upright.

Well, it is hilarious in retrospect, but Victor’s pretty sure if he told Yuri or Mila or Yakov, he wouldn’t get this reaction. He’d be on his way to getting reevaluated for a head injury.

“How much have you told of this to anyone else?” Chris wipes away a tear, still snickering a bit.

“Hardly half of it.” Victor shakes his head. “Most everyone saw me dancing with him last night, but the guards don’t remember seeing him with me going to the room where the jewels are held. They saw his clothes, and they assumed he was a gentleman.”

“I’d imagine.” Chris nods.

“So I told them I was on the way back to my rooms when I saw a figure, and next thing I knew I was in the palace gardens. It’s the truth, just not the whole truth.”

Chris’s eyebrows raise again. “You were going to your rooms.”

Victor can feel the heat of the pink dusting his cheeks. “I can’t say I wasn’t _thinking_ about taking him there. Do you blame me?”

“No, I can’t after that tale. It’s been years since you’ve had so much happen to you, and even longer since you’ve wanted it to happen.” Chris lets out a breath, glancing out the window behind Victor. “Well, there was obviously a lot more to your story than that, certainly. Did you see anything that might help you identify where you were? If he took you to his medic, it might be close to his hideout.”

Oh, how brilliant. How did Victor not think of that? Though… “All I saw was a room before he put a sack over my head.”

“I wouldn’t have expected him to get so frisky so quickly, from what you said of him.” Chris smirks. “Well then, what about noise?”

Victor’s brain flits through the memories, rolling through the conversation he overheard through the thin door of Yuuri and his friend, heading upstairs and that… _feeling_. Like being in water, but warm and dry and so very strange. But before that, before the sensation rushed over his ears… “Church bells, tolling the hour, very loudly. It was just sunset according to what I overheard, though I didn’t see it myself.”

Chris nods. “That’s good. Here…” Chris runs a finger along the edges of the books nearby, finally drawing out a tall, thin volume and flipping through it. “Aha! Here. Not unreasonably far from the castle, with a church that’s well in repair and tolls nearly every hour from sun up to sun down.” He sets the book down in Victor’s lap, tapping a page.

Victor glances down at a detailed map of one of the districts of the city with, sure enough, a church dead center. “Are you sure?” He glances up at Chris.

The man shrugs. “Absolutely not. But it’s the only lead I have, and you won’t rest until you have him, will you?”

A smile begins to creep across Victor’s face. “No. No, I won’t. Will you—?”

“Yes, I’ll make your excuses to everyone.” Chris makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Go, change into slightly more civilian clothes and get out of here before you’re caught.”

“Thank you so much Chris, I owe you!” Victor springs up, striding to the door as fast as he can.

“Oh, you’ve _no_ idea,” he catches Chris drawl before the door clicks shut and he’s moving through the hallways in a haze.

He’s going to find him. He’ll find Yuuri if it’s the last thing that he does.

Well, hopefully it won’t be the last thing he does, but he’ll do his damnedest regardless.

Victor throws on his best approximation of what commoners wear, putting a hat on over his silver hair—it’s not an entirely common color outside of nobility—and exits the castle somehow without running into trouble.

Though it’s been a while since his teen years when he used to sneak out all the time, he’d somehow expected little Yuri to warrant as much if not more of a necessary precaution against sneaking out. But no, he’s out in the streets and moving through crowds troublingly easily. Maybe he hadn’t taken Yuri under his wing enough. Perhaps spending some time causing chaos in the city would help him get some of that endless anger off of his chest.

There isn’t too much time to contemplate that, however, as he needs to focus as much of his attention to the streets and their signs as possible. One of the _many_ reasons they tried to keep him cooped up in the castle is because he has a terrible habit of getting lost. Luckily this isn’t the same aimless wandering for entertainment he used to indulge in—he’s a man on a mission.

Until he gets to the right neighborhood at least.

It’s easy enough to find the church, shimmering white and shining in the afternoon sun, obviously well-maintained and loved. He talks to the priest inside to double-check that it would be tolling at approximately the time he would’ve heard it yesterday, and it would.

He might as well have struck gold, a skip in his step as he comes back onto the street, following the flow of the crowd. It isn’t a rich area, but it’s well-loved by those that live here. There are little window boxes of herbs and flowers, all the shop fronts cleanly and with clear windows, signs painted and maintained.

Nowhere exactly screams, “Hello, I’m the front of a criminal’s organization, please do come inside.”

Sweat dribbles down the back of his neck, the sunlight that seemed so gorgeous not so long ago beating brutally onto his hat and insulating heat against his head.

Finally, as he passes a healer’s clinic, he talks to the flower vendor at the side of the street, asking as pleasantly as he can if anyone named Yuuri lives in the area.

The man stiffens, so slightly he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t spend so many of his days analyzing every micro-expression of carefully trained politicians and dignitaries, and he’s told that no one named Yuuri lives anywhere around here. He offers to help him out if he has an address or anything, and Victor happily offers up that he knows nothing else than the man’s name.

No matter if he’s some technicality of royalty, perhaps showing up in a thieves den and letting them know he knows they’re here wasn’t the smartest plan of action.

Hiding his scowl until he’s many streets away, Victor lets out a sigh. You’d think, considering his breeding and his contributions to society, he would be a little less impulsive. Yes, it’s the first time he’s truly cared about _anything_ in years, and yes, he’d sell his title and give up his wealth to find the man from yesterday. But that doesn’t mean Yuuri wants to be found. It doesn’t mean he _can_ be found.

It doesn’t mean Yuuri feels anything similar to what Victor feels about him.

After all, Victor doesn’t have what Yuuri wants anymore. Security around the jewels has been upgraded, obviously. There’s a magical guard watching them constantly. It’s been so long since anyone even _tried_ to steal them, they assumed no one ever would. And it was dangerous, what Yuuri did. He was obviously desperate for… for something. Even though he felt bad about what happened. Oh, what Victor would give to just know more about the man. But he has no leads, no nothing to find Yuuri.

Or… does he?

Chris was right, he wouldn’t give the guards Yuuri’s information to send them after him and arrest him. But he’s already woven enough lies about this whole situation to everyone but Chris. What’s one more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Victor, amazing logic, walk into a den of thieves, brilliant. Anyone have any guesses as to what Victor's next plan is? ;)
> 
> Thanks to Blue for catching oodles upon oodles of my awkward phrasing. And thank you all again so, so much for the kudos, and your guys' comments absolutely make my day!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
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	4. Yuuri

There’s darkness. It surrounds Yuuri, something solid no matter how much he blinks his eyes, no matter how he flails his limbs to find a solid surface. It floods his lungs until he chokes on the solid mass of it, until it starts picking away at him bit by bit from the inside out.

This is what he gets for abusing his magic as he has. Using something that was supposed to be beautiful and elegant instead abused for crime. It doesn’t matter what he does with the stolen money he acquires, it doesn’t erase the guilt or the blame. He’s used methods and means that _no one_ should take advantage of to make his gift into a monster that’s too powerful, too evil and alive and _devouring him_ —

“Yuuri!” A hand jerks at his shoulder.

Yuuri gasps a sharp breath as his eyes snap open. It’s bright. Well, maybe not exactly bright when he’s underground and there’s very little light in general to be had, but lighter than the darkness his mind had conjured, combining all of his fears into his greatest nightmare.

It would be nice if, you know, they could _not do that_ for once.

“It’s just a nightmare,” Phichit’s voice soothes as his hands run in small circles over his back. “You’re awake now, it’s fine.”

It won’t ever be _fine_ , not while he’s here and not while he needs the money. But the nightmare can no longer clutch at him for now, and at this point in his life, he’ll take what he can get.

“Thanks, Phichit.” He croaks as he sits up, grabbing blindly for his glasses. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Phichit places Yuuri’s glasses into his searching hand. “I’m happy I was able to interrupt it this time.”

Yuuri shivers as he unfolds the frames and slips them on. He’s grateful, too. That particular nightmare never ends well. At least it’s not as colorful as the one where he gets caught by guards. He never thought he could imagine so many ways to die, even with how his mind runs circles around itself on a regular basis. If anything, he should know better than to underestimate that part of himself. “Me too,” he manages to murmur.

“Well, you shouldn’t be too grateful. I’m here because of Minako.”

Yuuri glances up at Phichit, taking in the grim line of his lips and the furrow in his brow. “That bad?”

Phichit shrugs, avoiding his eye. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

Yuuri only just barely fights down the urge to draw up a hand and start nibbling on his nails. He’s managed to kick the habit for over a year, but the cravings still strike him from time to time. Like now, when he’s fairly sure Minako’s about to strangle him. If anything, he should be allowed this one last indulgence before he dies, right?

“The longer you put off getting up, the worst it’s gonna get.” Phichit stands, offering him a hand.

Yuuri just nods and lets Phichit pull him up, not trusting himself to open his mouth and not immediately begin screaming or vomiting or _something_.

The curving halls are empty as they make their way through the dark passages, the shadows oddly thick and opaque in the way they only ever are after he’s had one of those dreams. Normally he finds others wandering around the hideout and destroying the illusion of living darkness, but no one’s out and about this time other than Phichit and Yuuri.

Another sign that Minako will probably be strangling him. What else would draw an audience like this? It doesn’t matter that she’s friends with his parents, she made it clear from the beginning that Yuuri would be treated the exact same as every other person that was a part of her little gang of thieves. And people may accuse their fearless and fear-inducing leader of a lot of things, but favoritism is _not_ one of those.

“It’s going to be all right Yuuri, okay?” Phichit whispers as they come up on Minako’s chambers, pausing just outside the door. But he still won’t meet Yuuri’s eyes.

So Yuuri just gives a nod, and they head in.

It’s brighter in this large room than the rest of the place, but still dark by any outsider’s standards. Yuuri can still remember how it seemed the first time he walked into it, the heavy expensive and colorful fabric hanging and shimmering from the walls, the carpet soft beneath his feet, incense curling around the room in a fog that gave the whole area an otherworldly aura. For once, Minako had been alone when he entered, a foreboding figure that took Yuuri apart with her eyes. He thought he was about to enter into a deal with a small god, or maybe a devil.

But now, in the same room but crowded with many eyes, with the time to have taken apart the illusion and seen past the facade to the normalcy beneath the intimidating finery, Yuuri knows Minako is simply human. Which makes her all the more terrifying.

“Yuuri, dear.” Minako smiles and tucks a long strand behind her ear, grey eyes vibrant. The extensive tattoos creep up little skin visible of her neck, a design Yuuri’s never seen fully, yet knows intimately what it looks like. She doesn’t bother to stand up, and he doesn’t expect her to—he bows low before she can call him out on his half-awake oogling. “So nice of you to finally join us.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Yuuri doesn’t look up, clutching his fisted hands to his side so that his shaking won’t show. Well, Minako will know about it no matter what he says or does, but it doesn’t mean that anyone else has the right to Yuuri’s feelings when he’ll get mocked for them later.

“Get up before your spine gets stuck like that.” She gives a sigh. “You’re far too graceful a dancer and a thief to ruin yourself like that.”

Yuuri freezers for a fraction of a second. He wasn’t killed on the spot, not tied up and thrown wherever Minako pleased, not told to immediately turn and leave before she changed her mind. Already better than he was expecting. Or does that mean this will end worse than he could imagine? With a gulp, he stands as straight as he can, posture stiff with Minako’s training. Even if he’s slacked off in recent months, his body remembers.

“Your failure at the palace has already spread around to other gangs and thieves in the area.” She shifts, eyes unwavering in their observation of Yuuri. “You’re lucky that your prince kept your identity to himself, or else we’d be the laughingstock of the entire country. And on top of that, now _others_ are formulating their own break-ins, watching each other for opportunities to strike their targets.”

Yuuri’s face pales. “How long was I asleep?” He can manage his magic well enough, but transporting someone other than himself for such long distances takes infinitely more energy than he’s used in ages. Now that he thinks about it, his limbs feel a little odd; heavy, weak, and a bit tingly.

“At least twelve hours, I’m not sure.” She waves her hand. “Why would I be paying attention to _that_ when someone has to do damage control?”

He winces. “Of course.”

“That’s beside the point. You planned that heist on your own time and of your own ambition. It isn’t the first failed attempt at a mission I’ve seen from you, and it won’t be the last. No one has a perfect track record, we didn’t need it, and it is fun to watch the royals scramble, I do admit.”

Well, they’re not exactly comforting words, but they aren’t a punishment. They aren’t reason enough to summon him here. “Did something else happen? Is this about… afterward?”

She grins, the smile of a cat about to pounce on a mouse. “I always enjoyed how perceptive you were, Yuuri. There _is_ something else, yes. You see, somehow the prince you so dotingly brought back home was seen wandering the streets this afternoon, asking for a certain Yuuri. Say, you don’t know anyone by that name, do you?”

Yuuri can feel his jaw creaking open, but he can’t make any sound come out. Why… why on earth would anyone _do_ that? First he used Victor, then he knocked him out, then he took him away from the castle where he could have done whatever the hell he liked to the prince—though naturally he didn’t and wouldn’t. But inadvertent kidnapping or not, Yuuri would never be tracking down the culprit personally if he were on the right side of the law. Especially as an important and, well, gorgeous figurehead of the country. “How… how did he even find this place? He couldn’t see, and wasn’t out of the shadows while outside.” He should apologize or promise to make it right or _something_ , but Yuuri finds his limbs and his mind going numb, vision blurring around the edges.

“Regardless, he didn’t sniff at the right doorstep, nor did he bring the guards.” Minako waves her hand. “In fact, there are no more guards in the area than usual.”

“What is he _doing_?” Phichit murmurs, and there’s a slight hum of others seconding his question.

“I think it's fairly obvious.” Minako’s smile turns into something so sharp, she could kill someone with it. “He’s trying quite hard to catch the attention of his dear kidnapper.”

“But… that still doesn’t answer _why_.” Yuuri can hear himself speak, but it’s something he’s distantly aware of. This makes no sense. Maybe he’s still dreaming. It seems like something fairly dreamlike and silly, so there wouldn't be any logic to this. In fact, _that’s_ more logical than anything else.

“Step closer,” Minako commands and Yuuri’s already moving forward and through his haze before he can think about it. She holds out a piece of paper, and Yuuri accepts it with a slight bow of his head.

He’s on the paper. Slightly off, and distinctly more handsome than he actually is in reality, but those are his eyes, and his glasses, and his stubborn unruly hair. He’s never had a portrait made of himself in his life, and it’s incredibly odd to be staring at himself but not quite.

And even odder to see the word “WANTED” below it.

The paper crinkles as his grip tightens.

“I was proud to previously say that none of my thieves had ever left enough evidence to have a wanted poster made of them. Maybe I should disown you before this gets back to me.” Minako examines her nails as she speaks, tone flat in a way no one could mistake for bored.

“I…” Yuuri honestly doesn’t know what he wants to say, what there is _to_ say. This is too absurd. This is one of those silly stories he sees the puppeteers on the streets play put, children giggling and laughing along to every ridiculous twist. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to people.

But, of course, it happens to Yuuri.

“Well, at least they want you alive?” Phichit peers at the paper that Yuuri holds, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Though… Shit. That reward.”

Yuuri blinks, glancing at the number—

And promptly drops the paper.

“W-what?” That’s enough to take care of financial issues for his entire lifetime, and then some. Enough for his parents, and then he could…

But if there’s that much, they must want him for a public execution. Someone like him would make a good example, depending on the story that Victor told. Though Victor doesn’t know about the particulars of his magic, at least.

“I… I don’t know…” There’s too much. It’s all too much. He’s too numb.

“Well, you’ll have to figure it out.” Minako shrugs. “You’re beyond hand-holding, and this hole you’ve dug is too deep for me to drag you out of.”

Should he leave the country? Start fresh elsewhere? He wouldn’t have the same resources and would have no information network to draw from, but then again maybe he doesn’t have to be a thief anymore. Though he’ll still need the money, and there isn’t much else he _can_ do.

Someone whistles. “Well for that amount, I’d be turning myself in.”

Yuuri turns, eyes landing on Seung-Gil who picked up the paper that Yuuri dropped.

“If I didn’t know Minako would kill me, _I’d_ be turning you in.” Sara perches her hands on Seung-Gil’s shoulders, eyes roving the page.

And suddenly Yuuri isn’t numb, he feels everything. The grate of his cheap, worn clothes against his skin, every rustle and whisper around him all getting louder as they contemplate how to turn Yuuri over, the way Minako’s eyes pick him apart as he searches for an answer. Or, searched. It really is that simple, isn’t it? There isn’t any other option. There’s no other outcome. He’s worried about this for so long—the being spotted and wanted part, and the rest he still can’t wrap a thought firmly around—that it’s a relief it’s finally happened. He’s an all right thief, but nothing like Minako’s greatest criminals, nothing like the woman herself. It was an inevitable end to his career and, for now, he can have control of it. He can use it to get the money, have someone send it to where it’s needed, and then… Well, he'll deal with it when he gets there.

“I’ll go.”

Everyone goes quiet.

“Go where?” Minako’s face is blank, a mask. But does it really matter what’s on the other side of it anymore?

“I’m turning myself in. I’ll use the reward money to pay my debts to you, Minako, and take care of… everything else.” Not everyone in this room’s earned the right to know Yuuri’s story, and they never will, now. “That way no one has to deal with anything.”

“Except you!” Phichit squeaks, his grip digging into Yuuri’s shoulder. “You can’t!”

“I can.” He should be panicking, or angry, or mourning the fact that he’s probably be walking off to his own execution, but… “Besides, if anyone can escape from being executed, I probably have the magic best suited for it.”

“Assuming they don’t have someone sucking the magic right out of you,” Seung-Gil adds in oh so helpfully.

“I won’t let them. You remain a member of my circle of thieves, whether you’re active or not.” Minako sits impossibly straighter. “But I will let you go, if you want to.”

“Minako!” Phichit’s voice somehow gets even higher. “You can’t be serious!”

Minako hums, eyes losing focus for just a moment. “Well, what can I say? I’m entirely curious about this prince. The fact that Christophe was our contact on the inside and has somehow been silent since the whole kidnapping incident makes me even more curious. Call it a gut instinct.”

Phichit’s grip loosens, just barely. “You don’t think…?”

“Well I _do_ in fact have thoughts, I’m offended you think otherwise. And I’m fairly sure that I’ve thought this through enough. Do not question me again, Phichit.”

“Y-yes ma’am,” Phichit whimpers.

Minako’s gaze lands on Yuuri. “I’ll have them pack up your things, Yuuri. We’ll send them home.”

He won’t have his things. Something in the back of his brain starts to make noise, bangs and shouts and tries to disrupt the clarity of his thoughts, but he squashes it before he can make sense of what it’s trying to tell him. “Thank you.”

She nods, and there’s a faint shadow of a smile across her lips. “Good luck, kiddo. Now get out.”

Yuuri bows down his head, and turns and leaves. Voices break out in a storm of noise behind him, and a small part of him is happy he doesn’t have to sit through that.

He’s half-way toward the exit of the hideout before he notices he’s not alone.

“Phichit, you’re not coming with me.” He pauses, not sure exactly what to do to make his friend stop.

“I know.” His voice is gravelly, like he’s fighting tears. “I just… I wanted to wish you good luck.”

Yuuri smiles a bit. “We’re thieves, we don’t need luck.”

“Oh, don’t give me any of Minako’s crap. You… You’d better come back alive. Or else.” Phichit tries to frown at Yuuri, though it’s a broken sort of thing.

“Or else?” Yuuri raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, or else. You don’t want to find out.” Phichit’s frown breaks, and he lunges forward to hug Yuuri before he can see any tears. “Please.”

“I will,” Yuuri promises, having no idea if he’s going to keep it. He goes into his heists with a plan A through Z, this is the first time he’s done anything so impulsive, well, since he started this whole thing. The only reason he knows the most efficient path to the castle is because of his last heist, and none of plans A-Z had helped him in that situation. “But, um, if I can manage to have them deliver the money to our drop point—”

“I’ll make sure it gets where it needs to go before I come in and rescue you myself, since your prince seems to have other plans.” Phichit pulls away, meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

Again, that voice rises in his brain but he brushes it away and then stomps on it before he can make out what it’s saying. “Thanks, Phichit.”

Instead of replying, Phichit gives him one, last, strangling hug, and turns around to head back toward Minako. He won’t say goodbye—after all, it’s bad luck.

So Yuuri makes his own way out and into the Nishigori’s clinic, waving to Yuuko as she tries to wrangle the triplets and her patients into submission, and he heads out into the city.

He can’t remember the last time he’d seen the place in the light of day. It looks so incredibly foreign despite the fact that he recognizes landmarks and street names as he winds through the anonymous crowd, keeping his head down and clinging to shadows when he can. There will be headhunters out for him, but none would have an idea of even where to start so soon. Victor obviously didn’t personally hire anyone or they’d be right here, so no one would have any more information than what was on the posters.

In fact, no one gives him a second glance the entire way to his destination, no one cares. Maybe he doesn’t even need to do this…

No, he needs the money.

He pushes out of the crowd, making his way right up to the guards at the front gates of the castle. Ironically, his face is on the poles around the plaza itself, and yet _still_ no one notices him. He is rather unremarkable in all ways, he supposes.

“Can we help you, sir?” One of the guards sounds like he’s trying to hold back a yawn as he forces out his lines.

“Yeah, I hope so.” Yuuri smiles up at them. “I’m here to turn myself over.”

Everyone’s instantly on alert. Small shifts of postures corrected, fidgeting ceasing.

“What?”

Yuuri points at one of the wanted posters. “I’m here for my reward.”

There’s a whole lot of gaping and gasping and half-started sentences, and Yuuri can’t believe that _these_ were the guards that he had been worried about getting past to steal the jewels. Honestly, if this doesn’t work out maybe he should give it another go.

“Please follow me,” one of them finally gets out, turning to lead him away.

The palace seems a little less impressive in the daylight, a little less ethereal and more like a building that human hands and magic wove together in the most splendor that they could.

In fact… this doesn’t look like the way to a prison. And if it is, why hasn’t Yuuri been restrained? Searched for weapons?

“Please wait here while we, um, work on your reward.” The guard motions him into a room, and then gives a nod before leaving.

It’s a quaint little sitting room, with wide windows, and seats made of delicate floral patterns, with a lamp and vases and even art in the room that might be worth more than some gems that Yuuri’s stolen.

And without warning, that small voice is back, and it’s loud and it refuses to be pushed away.

This is stupid.

This is a trap.

He just walked off to _die_ and didn’t bat an eyelash at it. No one batted an eyelash other than Phichit—not even Minako. Yuuri hadn’t panicked, he didn’t think it through, he didn’t do anything other than walk over here and hand himself right over.

But… did he? He could break out of the window and run. He could open the door and walk out into the castle and steal everything he comes across, that guard didn’t lock the door when he left Yuuri in here.

Maybe he doesn’t know what he walked into.

And not knowing, no matter if knowing meant a public execution and death if he failed to escape—which he probably would have—is so much worse than knowing.

A chill seeps underneath Yuuri’s skin, and he shivers despite the warm sunlight coming in through the windows. What are they going to do with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wiggles eyebrows* What _will_ they do with such a precious, thieving boi?
> 
> This chapter has had no betaing, so I apologize for typos and awkward phrasing! Thank you all again SO MUCH for supporting this ridiculous fic! I'm so happy you all are enjoying it!!! <3 <3 <3
> 
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	5. Victor

Makkachin whines, the vibrations of the noise reverberating around the inside of Victor’s chest.

“I know Makka,” Victor coos, running his fingers through her curls, pulling them straight and watching them bounce back again and again. “I wish you could meet him too.”

She shifts so that she’s more on top of Victor than off, pinning one of his arms down.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to have those dull meetings to take up the morning. Now I have nothing to do but _think_.”

Makkachin huffs.

“And pay attention to my beautiful, darling girl, of course.” He scratches her in her favorite spot, right behind her ear, sending her tail thumping against his thigh. “I know, it’s too soon to hope for anything. In fact, I doubt he’s even seen it. It isn’t as if anyone else will bring him here. Obviously. Unfortunately.”

Victor lets out a mix of a whine and a groan and a scream entirely unbecoming of a prince, but it’s his chambers and he can do what he damn pleases to do, thank you very much.

He really should get up and do something, take Makka for a walk, pester Chris again, go and read, finalize some documents that he didn’t get to last night… but there will be time this evening. And the next. And the next, and the next…

What if Yuuri never shows up? What if it wasn’t enough money to tempt him back to the castle? What if Victor angered Yuuri, or scared him away?

He thought these things through dozens upon dozens of times before he sat down with the royal artist to put out the declaration, and he knows the risks intimately. And again, he reminds himself that he would choose to make the same choice over and over and over again, because even the _possibility_ of seeing Yuuri again is worth it as opposed to the alternative.

It seems so silly, to spend so long simply content at making do with Makka and his job to let one single man and two very odd meetings shift his entire world.

Honestly, it probably won’t even be worth it in the end. After all, Yuuri may be absolutely adorable, but he is a thief. He might even hate dogs, which would be absolutely unacceptable. Maybe it would be better not to meet him again, not to shatter this illusion of such a lovely man shattered.

But at least he can say for now that he can’t ever have regrets about not going above and beyond to find the man and at least try and see if he likes dogs. If nothing happens, then nothing happens, and he goes back to life as it was.

He scowls at the thought. If he were going to be truly honest with himself, he would rather get kicked unconscious again than attend tomorrow’s meetings.

A knock sounds at the door, making both Makka and Victor jump. Tail thumping at the prospect of begging even more humans for petting, Makka launches off of Victor, nearly gutting him and definitely knocking the wind out of him for a second.

“Come in!” Victor wheezes just loud enough to be heard, having far too much practice at recovering from Makka abandoning him violently for bigger and better prospects.

The door creaks open, revealing a guard outlined in the frame.

Victor freezes. They can’t already have a lead, it’s only been a day, he _knows_ that’s ridiculous, and yet… “Do you have any new information?”

The guard hesitates, shifting on their feet a little bit as Victor’s eyes bore into his soul. “Well. Yes, your highness.”

Victor jumps up out of his seat, so fast that his head rushes and he nearly needs to drop back down again. “What is it?”

The guard’s quiet for another awkward second. “Perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?”

Victor nods, already striding toward the door. Of course, he’d like to personally hear the information from the whoever’s mouth, thank them, maybe convince them to bring Victor to Yuuri themself.

Though maybe that’s getting ahead of himself.

“Please, lead the way,” Victor motions as the guard steps back, Makkachin whining a little.

It’s Victor’s turn to hesitate this time. He’d love to bring Makka along to hunt down Yuuri this time, but there isn’t even any proof that whatever informant or information gifted to them would be truthful and safe, and who knows if someone less than savory might not like having a dog around and lash out.

“Sorry girl.” Victor gives Makka’s ears a good scratching, closes the doors, and sets off after the guard.

Honestly, Victor wouldn’t be surprised if he were floating off the ground, though his magic would hardly cause something like that. It’s like it was all meant to be, everything destined to fall into place. If someone had told him he’d be having these thoughts a week ago—eager to meet a known criminal that sadly is not a kidnapper—he would have laughed in their face, then either had them tossed out of the castle or would avoid them like the plague. It’s absurd. It’s exciting. It’s more than he could ever have hoped for with his quiet, frustrating, monotonous life, and nothing he would have ever wished for.

And yet…

“In here, your highness.” The guard gestures to the door. “Would you like me to accompany you inside?”

Well, the person who brought the information might be a criminal so it would probably be the smart thing to do. But talking honestly would be hard, and the person might not even talk to him with an armed guard there.

“No. But thank you.” Victor flashes a smile.

The guard gives a solemn nod before stepping aside to stand near the door.

Well, at least if he needs something, all Victor has to do is scream? Shaking the thought off, Victor opens the door—

And nearly collapses.

He’s _here_. He’s here, and he’s… awfully pale. Perhaps Victor isn’t the best judge considering he’s only seen the other man in either a dim ballroom or even dimmer halls, but he still looks a little too ashy to be all right. His lips are pressed into a thin line, no amusement gracing his eyes as they flick toward Victor.

And then Yuuri stiffens up, almost cringing away from him.

“Are you all right?” Victor asks as he shuts the door behind him, not stepping any further into the room despite the urge to run over and wrap his arms around Yuuri.

“I just walked in to collect the bounty on my own head.” Yuuri’s words are short, his voice soft in a terrifying sort of way. “How do you think you’d be feeling?”

A… bounty? Victor tilts his head. “Yuuri, do you mean the reward?”

Yuuri grimaces, hands in tight fists at his sides. “It’s the same thing.”

“What? Not at all!” Victor grins as he watches Yuuri’s face go carefully blank. “I wanted to say thank you for taking such good care of me, and make it up to you for stealing your prize from under your nose.”

“I… what?” Yuuri blinks a few times.

“Well, I could have thought it through better, perhaps, but I thought the poster was very clear. Did you read it through?”

Yuuri hesitates a moment, eyes flicking around the room, then shakes his head. “No, I just saw… well, I saw enough.”

Victor frowns. “I had thought maybe you’d bring yourself in, but if someone else had come, I’d still make amends.” He takes a few tentative steps toward Yuuri, keeping an eye out for any more flinching, any grimacing, or if the other man backs away. But he doesn’t move. “I’m glad you came.”

“But, I… I thought…” Yuuri swallows, his eyes shining a little.

Victor freezes, sucking in a breath. “Yuuri, did you come here thinking that I was going to have you _hanged_?”

“What else was I _supposed_ to think?” A tear escapes Yuuri’s eye, but he swipes it away before Victor can even react to it. “It’s the only time I’ve ever been caught in a job, and the day after I return you there are wanted signs everywhere? It was either hide, flee the city—probably the country with that kind of reward—or hand myself over and hope that no one else gets hurt because of me, and take advantage of the reward money.”

The room tilts slightly in Victor’s vision, and he grips the arm of a nearby chair for balance. He really hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t for a second imagined what those posters would look like from the perspective of someone who spent their life running from the law, someone whose life hung in a precarious balance of luck and skill along a knife’s edge. All Victor could think about was seeing him again.

“I…” Victor clears his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

Yuuri’s quiet for a moment, wide brown eyes looking Victor over as if seeking something. “You’re not going to convict me?”

Victor shakes his head. “Never, of course not. Why would I?”

“I stole into the castle with a somewhat fake invitation, tried to steal the crown jewels, knocked you unconscious, and then kidnapped you.”

“Well, the most stealing into the ball would have ended with is getting tossed out, you didn’t succeed in stealing the jewels—though I do still have a bump from the unconscious bit.” The corners of Victor’s lips twitch up despite himself. “And I only _wished_ you’d kidnapped me.”

Yuuri gapes. And then he laughs, a light sound that sets something in Victor chest fluttering. “What did you even tell them to have the guard spread posters, then?”

Victor shrugs. “I said that you helped get me back to the castle after getting taken, and I wanted you brought to the palace so I could thank you.”

Yuuri laughs even harder, tears of a different kind building and spilling out of his eyes and he clutches his stomach and leans forward. “S-Sorry, this is just so…”

“Absurd?” Amazing? Wonderful? Nothing that Victor expected yet everything he wanted.

“Yes, absolutely absurd. I can’t believe you actually invited a thief into the castle.” Yuuri wipes away the trails of tears, getting to it before Victor’s twitching fingers give in and reach out.

“Well, as I said, I feel bad about interrupting you at your work. And you seemed like you desperately needed the money, so is it really so terrible to help you out when I have more than I really know what to do with?”

“I… I don’t want help?” Yuuri’s brow furrows.

It sounds like more of a question than a statement, but Victor can’t tell if the man’s just unsure if he wants help, or just _unsure_. He opens his mouth to respond, but then a gurgling sound echoes through the room and interrupts his thoughts.

Yuuri flushes a deep red. “I, um, I’m sorry.”

Victor laughs. “It’s a wonder how you sneak anywhere, with your stomach making noises like that.”

Yuuri scowls. “I haven’t eaten in a day, it’s not normally this loud.”

“A _day_?” Victor lets his mouth fall open for a minute. He can barely skip breakfast without his body wreaking havoc. “Come, we’ll head over to the kitchens and get you some food. There should be some leftovers from lunch.”

“N-no, if you aren’t going to put me in prison, I should…” Yuuri wrings his fingers.

“Nonsense, if you thought that you were going to get thrown away—which, to make it absolutely crystal clear, I will _never_ do to you—you can’t have too many plans for the rest of the day.” He doesn’t mention that he overheard Yuuri telling the person outside of his room yesterday that he had to wait until night to move Victor, so he probably doesn’t even operate whatever criminal activities he participates in until the evening. After issuing what Yuuri had thought was a warrant, it looks like he’ll have to be the one building trust in the relationship.

Which is absurd, when you consider one among them is a criminal, and it’s not Victor. Everything about this is absurd.

So Victor offers out a hand, testing the waters to see if Yuuri’s willing to give Victor a second—third?—chance.

Yuuri eyes the open palm as Victor imagines one might eye a bear trap. But in the end, Yuuri lets out a breath, reaches out and wraps gentle, tentative fingers around Victor’s own. “I suppose a little while won’t hurt.”

What Victor would like to do us jump up and take a victory lap around the room, but what he does is give Yuuri a gentle smile and pull him gently out of the room.

He gives a nod to the guard as they pass, running what he hopes is a comforting finger across Yuuri’s knuckles.

What was he thinking, that turning himself over to what he’d thought was imminent death was the better of the three options he listed? Did he really need the money so badly that he would kill himself to get it? His life isn’t worth so little as a sum of money—no one’s is. Victor has half a mind to turn around and scold him for choosing what he did, but then again it _is_ the reason that he has a warm hand in his own right now. So many that can wait.

There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Victor pauses, turning around. “Is everything okay?”

“I, um, yes.” Yuuri nods, eyes flicking all around. “It’s just… gorgeous.”

They’re heading down the open corridor that cuts through the gardens—though most of the castle is a bit of a garden, so that statement could encompass most of the building. It’s ordinary, something that Victor sees every day. But Yuuri wouldn’t have even been able to see the scenery on the night of the ball, the festivities starting after the sun had set. Yuuri’s words let Victor look around with fresh eyes to see the extraordinary on the ordinary.

Instead of crowded streets and houses, there were sprawling and curling paths that cut across large swaths of green. A small, man-made stream trickles from a fountain not too far away, the sound a gentle rush muffled between bushes and vines that are meticulously maintained and shaped into fabulous visions. A few of the plants are flowering, and Yuuri’s eyes catch on the one nearest to them, just past the railing, whose long purple trumpets are coated in yellow and black butterflies.

“We can take a walk in them after you eat, if you like,” Victor suggests, voice light. Oh he doesn’t want to scare Yuuri off, he doesn’t want to impose, but he’d commit theft himself to get even a little more time with him.

Yuuri opens his mouth, closes it, scowls, and finally says, “Maybe.” He turns back to Victor, less pale than he’d been when he was back in the room. “It reminds me of home.”

“Somewhere in the city?” Victor’s brow furrows. He can’t imagine something like that in the area where he’s seen.

“Um, no.” Yuuri frowns, and for a moment Victor thinks that’s all that he’ll tell, but the man is a constant string of surprises. “Home is actually two days travel outside of the city. My family runs an inn with hot springs—ah, sorry. It’s boring.”

“Nothing about you is boring, Yuuri.” Victor gives a tentative smile.

Yuuri flushes again, ducking his head down.

Knowing a sign to stop pushing when he sees one, Victor starts to pull them forward again and perhaps takes them along a route a little more scenic than straightforward. Birds trill around them as they move, butterflies and bees and other insects buzzing by as Yuuri gapes around and Victor stares at him with something tender growing in his chest.

Who would have thought the thief that so seduced him and had planned to ambitiously get away with the royal jewels—and damn well almost got away with it—would be so easily enraptured by flowers and nature, of all things.If Victor’s beginning to learn anything, it’s this: Yuuri, no matter what he learns about the man, no matter how he studies and asks questions, will never fit into any box Victor tries to put him into.

“Unfortunately, the kitchens are enclosed.” Victor smiles as he draws him through the arches and into the cacophony of banging pots and chopping knives and live fires. “But it’s mostly to keep the bugs out, which I’m grateful for. We once had guests that brought insects as a delicacy and, well, I wasn’t a fan.”

“What was it like?” Yuuri glances around and takes in the room with more measure than he did the outside. Seizing it up to rob the place? Well, he can’t say he could stop the chefs from tracking Yuuri down again if he makes off with their favorite knives.

A grin spreads across Victor’s face at the ridiculous thought. “Far too crunchy, and uncomfortably spicy in a peculiar way.”

Yuuri’s nose wrinkles as Victor waves to the chefs he knows, earning him a number of rolled eyes and enthusiastic waves in return. The kitchens don’t care if he’s a prince or a servant boy; someone shows up here hungry, and they feed them. It’s always been a refreshing break from the usual, and who could say no to delicious food?

He finds the leftover platters that probably came from the luncheon with the visiting dignitaries, littered with sandwiches filled with fresh crisp vegetables and juicy meat, flaky pastries filled with berries and cream and delicate cheeses, and freshly cut fruit cut to resemble the flowers blooming just outside. He waves for Yuuri to help himself, and the man doesn’t so much as hesitate to dig in, closing his eyes as he devours a neat quarter of a sandwich.

“Good?” Victor grins as he takes a bite of one himself.

Yuuri nods vigorously, his mouth full enough that his cheeks bulge slightly.

“As good as the food at your family’s inn?” It might be pushing, but Victor can’t help to be curious.

Yuuri snorts, such an indelicate sound that Victor would _never_ hear otherwise inside the wall of the castle. A trill of delight makes its way down Victor’s spine. “Hardly. They’re in a good place for produce, being south of the city. And they’re renowned in the area for having some of the best cooking in the whole country.” Yuuri pauses, sandwich half-raised to his mouth as his eyes widen. “N-not to insult your chefs! This is lovely, it’s better than I’ve had in the past five years living here. It makes me miss home, a little.”

“You haven’t been back to visit your family in that time?” Victor’s brow furrows.

“Um, well, no?” Yuuri frowns and nibbles at the next sandwich. “I… have a contract to fulfill, and I have to pay it out before I can really leave again.”

Victor hums. “So was that why you were after the jewels?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, but he hesitates while his eyes search Victor’s. “No. That was… for something else. Something more important.”

“Is the reward money enough to do both?” If not, if Victor may have enough money stashed away to help Yuuri, but he’d damn well steal the crown jewels himself if he needed to.

A small smile twitches along Yuuri’s lips. “Yeah. I can… I can go home, if I want to.”

Victor beams at him.

Their conversation carries lightly from there on out, sometimes a little awkward at times. But it’s Victor’s profession to keep that sort of feeling from settling, and he keeps it all moving forward. He tells Yuuri what it was like growing up in the castle, all of the shenanigans that led to poor Yakov losing most of his hair. And in return, he gets small slivers of Yuuri. His favorite dances, the knowledge that he even studied dance in the first place to help with thieving, somehow. Small hints that he’s taken things from some of the lords that Victor mentions, Victor’s glee when it happens to be someone he dislikes, and Yuuri laughing in return. It’s not much, he knows.But he grabs at it like a drowning man would cling to a piece of driftwood.

“Oh, but none of those stories compare to when I managed to adopt my Makkachin.” Victor beams.

Yuuri frowns. “Makkachin?”

“Makkachin is my darling, precious girl!” Victor beams as Yuuri’s frown only grows. “She also happens to be a dog.”

“Oh!” It’s like a flame catching, how the smile spreads across Yuuri’s face. “I have a dog back home, Vicchan! He… well…” The smile fades a little.

“You can see him again now, right?” Victor encourages.

It’s not sadness in Yuuri’s eyes, but it’s something just as large and as complicated lurking beneath the warm brown. “Yeah, I can. But, um, Victor, I want to ask why—”

“Victor!”

They both turn to catch a head of red hair moving toward them.

Victor scowls. If Mila gets a whiff of Yuuri, the thief won’t escape her and Yuri’s clutches. “Just a moment, Yuuri.” He crosses the distance over to her before Yuuri can respond, looking down at her. “What is it, Mila?”

“Ooo, someone’s snippy today.” Mila grins, an expression that Victor might compare to a shark smelling blood in the water. “Does it have to do with whoever’s picking at our leftovers?”

“Mila…” Victor warns.

“Fine, fine, I’ll just corner him later.” Mila tosses her hair. “It seems that one of the foreigners is requesting your presence in the west wing. Their messenger looked a little frazzled, I’d get there in a hurry if you don’t want Yakov yelling at you all of tomorrow.”

“You’d think that we’d all be deaf by now, with how he howls.” Victor sighs. It’s not usual for this sort of thing to happen, normally everyone’s too done after a morning of polite arguing to want to see Victor or anyone else until the next day. But it’s not unheard of. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He waits for Mila to turn and leave, but she instead tries to lean around Victor and get glances of Yuuri around Victor. He raises an eyebrow.

“All right, all right,” she grumbles, finally leaving him to turn and make his way back to Yuuri.

“Well, it seems like there’s some business for me to attend to this evening.” Victor smiles, a reflex to hide the cool darkness settling into his gut. “But it’s getting late, and there are some spare rooms for you to stay in if you’d like.”

“I… I don’t know if that would be smart?” Yuuri glances up at him above the frames of his glasses, probably not meaning to look adorable, but doing so all the same.

“Why not?” Victor bites the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to use his magic though it’s so very tempting. But it would be wrong. “No one knows exactly how we met, and I still have to give you your reward money besides. It’ll take me a little while to put it together.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath before a small smile breaks free. “My reward money for making the walk to the castle?”

“Have you seen how crowded the streets are in this mild weather? Truly a miracle you survived the journey.” Victor’s smile settles into one less for show. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I would never make you.”

For a moment Yuuri stares past Victor, thoughts obviously spinning around the inside of his brain. Now, he’s only met him a few times now, but Victor’s beginning to think Yuuri might be one to think _too_ much. Though is that really a problem when you’re a thief?

Yuuri draws in a breath, meeting Victor’s gaze. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the general reaction to last chapter was:  
> Everyone: VICTOR, NO  
> Victor: VICTOR, YES  
> But all’s well that ends well ~~for now~~? :’D
> 
> Another chapter with no beta, please excuse my probably many typos! (And feel free to point them out if you notice them.) Thank you guys so, so much for all of your support!!! I can't believe this has passed 200 kudos?! And your comments absolutely mean the world to me and make my day. <3
> 
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	6. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning!** (If you’re not afraid of anything in the tags, you can skip this):  
> This be the chapter where the violence tag comes in. ~~Yuuri knocking a very appreciative Victor out doesn’t count.~~ If you’d rather jump past the action, skip between, “He should have asked Phichit to take him… but too late now.” and “All clear.” It's not super detailed, but sometimes it's better to be safe than sorry.

With his profession being a thief, of course Yuuri’s dreamed about being in the castle before. He’s thought about all the ways he’d sneak through the gates, he’s thought about how he’d find his way through the sprawling yards and maze-like buildings that the rumors spoke of. He’s thought about the thrill of what it would be like to succeed in a heist of that scale, but more often than not, those thoughts are followed by imaginings of what it would be like to rot in one of the jail cells, spending his remaining days so close to his dreams of princes and dancing but not able to touch it as the bindings the prison uses sap away his magic.

Never, not even in his wildest of fantasies, did he imagine he’d be sleeping in one of the castle’s rooms as a guest. And by the castle’s rooms, he really does mean _rooms_ , plural. There’s a sitting area, and then there’s a bathroom, and a bedroom, though the bed alone is large enough to be a room. It’s larger than the one he had back at the hideout, to say the least. He doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to sleep in it. Up against the edge? Take minutes to crawl into the middle? He touches it and it’s so soft that it might very well eat him up while he makes the attempt.

Not to mention the furnishings… well, he stopped calculating what he could sell everything for once his head began spinning.

Victor really does trust him, doesn’t he? He’s… he’s absolutely ridiculous. And a little stupid for allowing a thief this deep into the castle without any sort of supervision. Maybe more than just a little, honestly.

But something about it, something about just thinking of Victor makes a warm trill run through his chest, makes a smile spread across his face. Yuuri’s never been one to tolerate stupidity, much less find it endearing. But that’s the only way he can really think of it. And it’s ridiculous, and he shouldn’t, and once he gets his reward Victor’s going to kick him out—

Though if he were going to kick Yuuri right back out why would he have put out the reward for him to come to the castle in the first place? He can’t mean for Yuuri to _stay_ here though. He just… he doesn’t belong here. Not that it isn’t a gorgeous place, but it’s so different compared to where he’s been living for years. He’s almost grateful for the training he’s had as a thief—if he’d walked into this room straight from living at his family’s hot springs, he’d be overwhelmed instead of cataloging all of the little details.

Who knew thieving could help his anxiety?

He sits on the bed and looks out the windows leading to the balcony, watching as the sun slowing paint the sky orange, red blossoming and spreading across the clouds. It casts the gardens outside and below in a golden sort of light, like an old painting that hasn’t been well cared for. There’s a light breeze tossing some of the bushes lightly—

Wait, no.

Yuuri’s up again before he can think about it, reaching for the dagger hidden beneath his belt as he smoothly slides open the doors and steps out into the warm evening. The bush rustles again as he moves closer.

“Who’s there?” He keeps his voice calm, having practiced the skill to the point that no one who didn’t know him wouldn’t notice the slight shake to his words.

“Yuuri?” A head pops out from the brush, turning toward the balcony. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri stumbles back as the form leaps up from the bushes and at him, on the second story. Almost as if they were flying, like they had magic just like— “Phichit?” Yuuri manages before he’s tackled back onto the plush carpet that, now that he’s lying on it, is almost as soft as the bed. Much softer than his cot. It’s a wonder that Victor hadn’t complained about it when he woke up.

“Oh, Yuuri!” Phichit clings to him. “We were going to break you out of prison, but while Minami was gathering information, we heard you weren’t there. And then we thought that maybe you’d already been executed, though that’s _never_ happened before without a public showing, and we found out that instead you were getting treated like a _guest_? Not just anyone’s guest, but _Victor’s_ , and he really has been looking for you since you knocked him off his feet at the ball. And you didn’t _tell us_?”

“I, um.” Yuuri tries to sit upright, but Phichit doesn’t budge. “Well, I haven’t really thought about it? And didn’t I say I wasn’t going to take care of it? Minako’s going to kill you if she finds out you’ve been using time and resources—”

“Oh don’t even!” Phichit untangles himself enough to meet Yuuri in the eye. “She’s like your aunt Yuuri, she’d be upset if you were murdered. Maybe even sad.”

Yuuri snorts. “She didn’t seem that upset when I said I was going to turn myself over.”

“Well, that was… weird.” Phichit cocks his head. “But, anyway, that’s not why I’m here.”

“I thought this was a rescue mission?” Yuuri finally manages to free himself enough to get to his feet again, brushing non-existent dirt from his pants before offering a hand to Phichit.

“Yep, it is. But it switched from being yours after we found out you’re safe.” Phichit accepts the offered hand, eyes flitting around and taking stock of the room as he talks.

Yuuri sighs. He might have the restraint not to steal anything while he’s here, but Phichit… “Okay then, who are you here to rescue?”

“Victor.” Phichit’s eyes stop moving, settling on Yuuri.

But Victor… he just saw Victor. And he was fine. But if he knows anything, it’s that it takes seconds for anything to go wrong. He sucks in a breath. “What? What happened to Victor?”

“You know how those Leroy assholes are here? The local Leroy loyalists apparently had an inside man see you going after Victor, and leading him away from the rest of the local lords and ladies so that he was on his own. So they used their guy to bring them to the wing where said person’s staying, and…”

All the warmth that came with thinking of Victor swoops out of Yuuri’s body, the numbness that he’d only just felt so intensely that morning creeping in again. “Is he dead?”

“Would it be a rescue mission if he was?” Phichit grins, less like genuine amusement and more like a dog that’s caught onto a scent. “I have Otabek and Seung-Gil with me.”

Yuuri blinks. “Seung-Gil?”

Phichit shrugs. “I think he felt bad about telling you to turn yourself in earlier, but that’s beside the point. If we can get Otabek inside, he should be able to track his scent. Do you know where the Leroy assholes are staying?”

“I…” In theory, Yuuri does. If he was in the ballroom he should be able to guide them—but he doesn’t know where this room is in regards to the ballroom. He was too busy talking to Victor on the way here, catching glimpses of those odd yet beautiful blue eyes and unreal silver hair whenever he felt he wouldn’t get caught staring.

If the winks he got from Victor are anything to go by, he didn’t get away with it.

But if the Leroys don’t get their way, or even if they _do_ , Victor won’t be winking at anyone. It’s going to take longer than it should for Otabek to get inside and then track Victor from the door to wherever he went next. And then from there, if he’s already gone he’ll have to track him to wherever he was taken…

Knocking, vicious and quick echoes through the room, making both Phichit and Yuuri reach for their weapons before their minds catch up with them.

“Stay in here,” Yuuri hisses as he leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him and nearly running over to the door. Maybe Victor hadn’t gone and got himself kidnapped. Or maybe it’s just someone coming to offer dinner, which he can’t ignore if he doesn’t want it to seem like he was the one who kidnapped Victor. Which, Victor might’ve somehow convinced everyone that Yuuri had rescued him, but there’s only so far that logic can stretch, and Yuuri can’t help him as efficiently if people are hunting him as well.

He swings the doors open.

And a finger jabs him in the chest.

“ _You_.”

A kid—a teenager, really—glares up at him through green eyes, his mop of blonde hair tied back from his face, and advances on him, backing Yuuri into his own rooms.

“You’re the bastard the Victor’s been obsessed with, aren’t you?”

“Um.” Yuuri swallows. He’s pulled off heists that this kid could only dream of, he shouldn’t be cowed by him, and yet… “I don’t really know?”

“You’re the guy from the posters he made, don’t lie about it,” the kid growls.

“Oh, yeah, that. That’s me.” Yuuri frowns, finally stopping and letting the kid get into his space as his mind races. He needs to get away and start looking for Victor, but he can’t have the guard looking for him when they should have their attentions focused elsewhere.

“What did you do with him?” The kid bares his teeth, standing on his tiptoes to meet Yuuri eye to eye and demand answers.

“What?” Yuuri frowns at him.

“ _Where’s Victor_?” The kid seethes.

“Oh good!” Phichit busts from the bedroom, making the poor kid jump. “Maybe you can help us find him.”

“What the _hell_?” It takes no time at all for the blonde to regain his anger, practically oozing it. Thank goodness there aren’t any people with empath magic in the room, they’d probably be begging to sedate the kid.

“One of the local Leroy gangs in the city used our friend here’s invitation to the castle as an opening to get at Victor to… well, who the hell knows, no one ever said that any Leroy was anything less than impulsive.”

The kid snorts, crossing his arms. “You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with this?”

“Why would I still be here if I kidnapped him?” Yuuri takes a step away while the kid seems to be done advancing on him. “I’d have him out of the castle and deep in the city, if I were going to kidnap him. Which I wouldn’t. I don’t kidnap people, and he knows that all too well.”

The kid just gapes at him.

“It’s a long story, okay?” Yuuri winces. “But my friend here has more friends outside.” He glances at Phichit, who nods to confirm. “And if you can get them in, and get us to where Victor was last seen, we can track him from there.”

“And why the hell should I trust you?” The kid narrows his eyes.

“Because I’ve seen how incompetent your guards are going to be with a determined gang like this.” Yuuri takes a breath, weighing his options briefly before going for it. “After all, I almost made off with the royal jewels before Victor interrupted me.”

“You… you’re the one…” The kid’s jaw can barely close.

“Yeah. I’m Yuuri, and this here is… my friend. We don’t normally give out our names, but Victor…”

The kid gives a soft snort. “Well, Victor is persuasive at getting things like that.”

Yuuri’s brow furrows, and he carefully tucks the comment away to examine later. “Well?”

The kid holds out his hand. “Yuri.”

Yuuri takes it.

“Well, isn’t that confusing!” Phichit chirps. “We’ll call you Small Yuri.”

“W-what? You are _not_ calling me that.” The kid, Yuri, yanks his hand away.

“I am if you want our help.” Phichit strides past the two of them and to the doors that are still spread wide open. “Well?”

After a moment, Small Yuri grumbles and heads out, leading them through a maze of hallways until the pathway opens up to the yard, and Phichit gives a couple of short whistles.

Seung-Gil and Otabek peel away from the shadows as if they had Yuuri’s magic instead of their own. He doesn’t understand why Minako coveted his magic enough to take him on when it seems to be a prerequisite to have the talent without even having the magic to back it up.

Small Yuri sucks in a breath as they move closer.

“Having second thoughts?” Yuuri asks, trying to be as gentle as he can when urgency presses and vibrates against his nerves.

“Well, you guys didn’t kidnap him, and if you wanted to kidnap me you’ve already had enough time to do it. So no.” Small Yuri glances up to catch Yuuri’s eyes. “But like hell I trust you thieving weirdos.”

“Ooo, I like him.” Phichit grins.

“No, we aren’t taking him home as a pet,” Seung-Gil comments dryly as he walks up.

“Minako would be pissed if we brought a spoiled royal home,” Otabek adds.

Small Yuri bares his teeth. “I’m not a spoiled—”

“Where was Victor last time you saw him?” Yuuri interrupts before they egg on the poor kid any more.

Small Yuri huffs. “Well, I didn’t see him, but… C’mon, you’ll understand when you see it.”

He leads them through the halls, through gardens that are muted in the almost-dark, moving fast but not fast enough. Yuuri’s legs itch to sprint, to run, but that would draw more unwanted eyes than their ragtag group is already attracting. Small Yuri’s finery stands out between the dark, worn clothes that the rest of the group wears. They make it easy to blend in with nearly any other situation, except here.

But no one stops them, and what feels like an eternity that has to be minutes pass until they file into a room that Small Yuri ushers them into.

There was a struggle. A table and two chairs are turned over, the fabric of one ripped to shreds. Victor put up a fight, and Yuuri can’t help the prick of swollen pride that grows in his chest—the Leroys are a formidable group, and that’s putting it mildly. Then Yuuri’s eyes settle on the crimson blood splashed against the lightly patterned carpet, and his world begins to swirl.

“Easy.” Phichit’s hand settles Yuuri, brings him back into the moment. “Otabek, you got a trail?”

The man nods, the movement taking a second for Yuuri to make sense of. “It’s fresh, and they either don’t have the magic to cover it or they aren’t bothering.”

“Good,” Small Yuri growls. “The guards are useless sacks of shit, they couldn’t make heads or tails of the room and they wouldn’t do anything. They didn’t believe me that Victor was here, idiots. Let’s get them.”

“As much as I like your spark, kid,” Phichit takes a step away from Yuuri, “it’s too dangerous for someone who hasn’t been trained.”

“Like hell it is,” Small Yuri snaps. “You don’t know what I get up to while the others aren’t looking, you haven’t seen my magic.”

“You could die.” Seung-Gil’s eyes are cold as they take in Small Yuri. “You could get him killed.”

“Wait.” Otabek frowns. “Have I seen you before, at the fighting r—”

“Maybe,” Small Yuri snaps, a bit of pink spreading across his cheeks. “No one pays enough attention to know what I get up to. Don’t underestimate me.”

“He can come.” Yuuri takes in a breath that he hopes no one notices is shaking. “If he can promise to not get in the way, he can come.”

All eyes turn to examine Yuuri, but he stands tall and doesn’t waver. If the kid cares so much, they won’t be able to stop him. This way they can protect him, at least. Though saying that aloud would only start an argument, one they don’t have time for.

Yuuri technically has superiority here. He’s been with Minako the longest, was personally trained by her, and helped to train all of them. Never before and never again would he rely on this advantage, but he will now. He opened the door for Victor to get taken, and he won’t let anyone get away with it.

No one speaks up, so Yuuri turns to Otabek. “Lead the way.”

Otabek gives a curt nod, then heads swiftly over to a window that’s slightly ajar. He wrenches it open, then leaps out of the second story window, Seung-Gil and Phichit following right after.

“You just, uh, jump?” Small Yuri scowls.

“No, you don’t jump at all.” Yuuri places his hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Then how the hell—oh!” is all Small Yuri manages to get out before Yuuri drags the shadows of the dim room around them, into them, through them until there’s no telling where they end and the shadows begin, unless you have a trained eye for it.

Yuuri’s gift may be rare and not always useful, but at least this time it has a purpose. He pulls Small Yuri through the air as if it were water, though slower than swimming with how weak the shadows are in the twilight. Even after with living and exploring his power his whole life, the whys and the hows of its workings are still beyond Yuuri, as evidenced by the nightmare he had a night ago.

Lord, was that really so recent?

Yuuri’s sense of being brushes the grass, and he tugs himself and Small Yuri back outside of the shadows. He turns around to make sure he’s okay, that he’s whole—it’s never happened before, but… He lets a sigh out upon seeing the kid disheveled, but all there. “That’s how.”

“What?” Small Yuri blinks up at him, obviously having forgotten his half-asked question. “What the hell did you just do to me?”

“We can explain that later, Small Yuri.” Phichit grabs the kid’s arm, dragging him along.

Small Yuri practically growls.

“How fresh is the trail?” Yuuri butts in before anything can escalate.

“Very.” Otabek frowns. “I think Victor was giving them trouble. They may still be on the grounds.”

Yuuri takes a deep breath. “Then let’s go.”

They move quietly through the night, even Small Yuri doing a commendable job sticking to the shadows. Either they’re teaching royals some odd things, or he must sneak out. Was it the fighting rings that Otabek almost mentioned? Yuuri’s seen Otabek in the rings once or twice, but for the most part it’s not a place he goes often—the pointless violence makes his stomach churn, even if it’s an unfortunately great place to learn.

They barely need Otabek to lead the group, the Leroys obviously unafraid of anyone trailing them as they pushed through and trampled the flora that Yuuri had been admiring with Victor only hours early.

How did such idiots get so close?

Yuuri grimaces. Well, he opened up the way for them, didn’t he? He led them right to someone in the negotiations, and made the castle lower its defenses by letting a stranger just roam around. It’s a small opening, but still enough for any determined thief. Or kidnapper, in this case.

Finally, figures appear in the distance, the sun having dipped below the horizon so the moving shapes stay vague in the remaining rosy light. As they sneak and sweep closer, they find the members of the other gang at the metal walls that surround the palace, messing with some rope and arguing over something—their voices are hard to make out at a distance, even if whispered loudly.

“Ready?” Yuuri murmurs almost silently, slipping out his blade from where it rests against his ankle.

A series of nods break the shadows around him, only hesitating with Small Yuri. But despite that, there’s a snarl on his face, and a light in his eye that stops anyone from suggesting that he stay here.

Yuuri nods back. “Move.”

He slips into the shadows before he can think about, grappling harder against the dark than he had to before. He never had time to truly let his magic recover from taking Victor away and then back to the castle, that was the farthest he’d ever taken anyone, anywhere. And the drag of pulling Small Yuri through the shadows earlier already had him pulling at his reserves. He should have asked Phichit to take him… but too late now.

He dimly senses Phichit launching into the air as Seung-Gil pulls back and Otabek’s form shifts slightly. Small Yuri seems to change, too, but his senses are muffled by shadows as he zips forward to the nearest man, coming out of the shadows behind him, grabbing his head, and running his knife along his throat and deeply into the skin for a silent kill.

There’s only seven of them, barring anyone hidden or running surveillance.

A small grin flits across Yuuri’s lips. Easy.

He lowers the body down in a smooth movement as something smacks heavily into another man from above, sending him sprawling across someone else who had been sat on the ground. Someone who’s wearing a gag. Something seethes within Yuuri, burning up as he slips into the shadows again. No one can do that Victor.

Well, _he_ did it, but it’s different when it’s him.

He hesitates as his thoughts strike clean through the haze of exhaustion and anger. Lord, it’s not like he’s going to go around _gagging_ Victor—

Focus.

He shakes his head, stepping from the shadows as a man whirls around, barely raising his hands to grapple at Yuuri before he swings. Yuuri’s knife misses its mark, and instead the sharp blade swings cleanly through his fingers. He starts to scream, and vaguely Yuuri notes that his is not the only scream in the air. But he can’t stop and think about it, can’t let anything other than the bodies that need to fall distract him.

Yuuri jabs his knife into the man’s chest, exactly where he knows it will be quick and irreparable, a distant part of him aware of the fact that his stomach churns, something hot coating his fingers, quickly turning sticky as he wipes them off.

He turns, instinctively reaching for the shadows—and gets a cold jolt through his middle when he realizes he _can_ use his magic. The Leroys really had been moving quickly, not prepared for anything like this to happen. They activated no device to block their magic, they barely had a chance to fight back. Yuuri half-slips into the shadows, using them to tug closer to Victor without taking any of this focus from the others.

He glances just in time to see the last man standing being blown over in a jet of fire coming from Seung-gil. Otabek shivers slightly as blood drips from the patches of fur across his body. After a second of quiet, Yuuri dares glance up to Phichit, catching the man’s eyes.

Phichit nods.

All clear.

Yuuri lets the shadows drop collapsing to the ground and shivering as the sensation of blood across his skin becomes real, far too real. The sight of that last man’s eyes, wide in horror, consumes his thoughts.

It wasn’t the first person he’s ever killed, but it isn’t something you get used to. Not when it could be you or one of your friends next, your family if you aren’t careful.

Something knocks against Yuuri’s foot.

Yuuri lurches forward, grabbing the knife and spinning—

To find a disheveled Victor staring back.

Yuuri stumbles forward disgust washing away in the waves of knee-weakening relief. “I’m so sorry.” He repeats the words like a mantra as he makes quick work of the bonds around Victor’s wrists and his mouth, then shoving away the blade before he even cleans it, not giving a damn if it rusts.

“Yuuri,” Victor murmurs, voice rough.

Yuuri grits his teeth. Did they make him scream, to make him sound like this? He might’ve thought that they’d gotten what they deserved, but maybe he was being too kind. “Did they hurt you?”

Victor shakes his head, movements jerky. “They said they wanted me… for a lot of things, but they didn’t hurt me. What about you? You just collapsed, and…” He tentatively reaches out, taking one of Yuuri’s hands that were tacky with the dried blood.

Yuuri winces, part of him wanting to pull back, but… “No, I’ll be all right. I just… I haven’t had to do anything like this since I was young, before I became a thief.” Minako has use for a lot of other positions in her organization, and the bottom tier work is… messy

Victor nods, like he could really understand, then pulls Yuuri closer and wraps his arms around him. “Thank you.”

Yuuri wants to explain that this was all his fault, explain all the ways that Victor should be afraid, all the ways he should hate him. But there’s too much to say, and above all of that Victor’s _okay_ , and the though chokes him, burns at his eyes. In the end, all he can do is lean into Victor’s arms.

“Hey, old man.” Small Yuri’s voice should send Yuuri scrambling back, but he can’t bring himself to care. “You okay?”

“Yuri?” Victor’s arms tighten around Yuuri.

“He helped me and my… friends,” Yuuri murmurs into Victor’s shoulder. “They heard rumors that someone used my presence here to get at you, and they helped.”

“My, who knew thieves could be so noble?” Victor’s grip stays tight, and Yuuri squeezes him back, trying to give comfort in whatever way he can.

“Noble? More like shitty, they left the moment the assholes were dead.” Small Yuri pauses then, the only sign of him being there is the sound of shoes shuffling in the grass. “W-we should probably get the guards.”

Victor hums his agreement, arms loosening a bit. “Are you sure you got them all?”

“Yes.” Yuuri pulls back enough to meet Victor’s eyes, enough that he can see the sureness in Yuuri’s eyes. “We had a tracker with us. He wouldn’t have let any go.”

Victor takes in a slow breath, and then nods.

And in seeing Victor’s wide eyes, his skin pale and hair a mess, he remembers what it was like the first time he’d seen a dead man, the first time the danger became _real_ and had to become _normal_ in his life, the days that it took him to recover. So despite his aching body, every part of him screaming to just stay in Victor’s arms and _sleep_ , he stands up, pulling Victor with him.

“Are you okay, Yuri?” Yuuri turns his attention to the kid, eyes picking him apart. “Have you…? I know Otabek says you’ve been—”

“I’ve seen stuff like this.” Small Yuri’s voice shakes less now. “This is… different. But I’m fine.”

Yuuri would push, but Victor leans into him, obviously a lot less fine than Small Yuri, so he simply nods. “All right. Go and report to the guards. And, um, could you have a hot bath prepared in Victor’s rooms? It helps with the shock.”

Small Yuri opens his mouth, and Yuuri can almost hear the words _I’m not your damn servant_ before he says them, but then he looks over Victor. “Fine. Whatever.” And he turns and leaves.

“Victor, let’s get you to your room, okay?” Yuuri nudges Victor forward, and the other man moves as if on autopilot. It takes a lot of questions and reminding of where they’re going for Victor to send them in the right direction, but by the time they get to Victor’s rooms—he somehow has even more than Yuuri—there’s a steaming bath sitting in there.

Yuuri makes sure that he’s stable enough to get in the bath himself, then leaves before the blushing can take over his entire face, and waits outside of the door to make sure that Victor doesn’t accidentally fall asleep in the tub.

But he emerges after honestly what seems too short a time for Yuuri, and tries to force Yuuri to take a bath too, not relenting until he agrees. And it’s hard not to give in when he can feel the blood flaking off his skin with every movement.

Victor lends him some clothes, and Yuuri bathes faster than Victor even, all too aware that he’s _in Victor’s room_ , and the fact that the other man probably wouldn’t rest until Yuuri was done. He emerges to have his worries proven true, Victor pacing.

“Yuuri, are you sure you’re okay?” The words flood from Victor’s mouth the moment he catches sight of him.

Yuuri shifts, awkward in clothes that are too large for him. “I’m fine Victor. Are you okay? And I don’t mean injuries.”

“I…” Victor reaches up, running his hand through already ruffled hair, eyes constantly moving. “I’m… shaken.”

Yuuri nods, smiling softly. “That’s normal. You should probably get some sleep, so you can think more clearly in the morning. I’ll leave and let you—”

“No!” He reaches out toward Yuuri then pulls his arm back, clutching it to him. “I-I’d rather not be alone right now.”

Yuuri frowns. “You really should sleep.”

“Would you… sleep with me?”

Sleep _with_ Victor? Of course his mind just has to jump to other things, things that he immediately pushes from his mind even if he can’t stop the heat from rising to his cheeks. He’s slept—and only _slept_ —with Phichit before, after a couple of particularly awful nightmares, but that was different. He knew Phichit better, and he didn’t feel the same way about Phichit as he does Victor.

He still isn’t sure what exactly he feels about Victor, and the night has only made it all the more muddled.

Still, he nods.

Victor wilts, a small smile spreading across his lips as he steps forward, takes Yuuri’s hand gently in his, and leads him to the bedroom.

Yuuri can’t seem to get rid of his blush as he enters the room; if he thought the bed in his guest room was bad, Victor’s bed is _worse._ Victor climbs into the far side of the mattress, practically collapsing under the covers. Yuuri goes a tad bit slower, taking off his glasses and slipping slowly under the covers and settling stiffly against the soft mattress.

Victor smiles, his eyes already half-closed. “Thank you, Yuuri.”

Again, protests climb up Yuuri’s throat, blame and accusations against himself heavy in his chest. But now’s not the time. Instead, he softly smiles back. “You’re welcome, Victor.”

There will be plenty of time to discuss things in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OR WILL THERE?  
>  ~~Is it really one of my fics if there isn't some sort of bed sharing?~~  
>  Aaaand we're past the half-way mark! I didn't realize until I started posting that Yuuri's first few POV chapters that poor Yuuri had the angstier portions? Poor boy. :'DDD You'd never think he was my favorite character with how I treat him.
> 
> I think the rest of the fic will probably not have a beta, so I'm sorry in advance for the typos!!! You guys are always welcome to point them out, of course. And thank you all for being absolutely amazing. *grovels*
> 
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	7. Victor

The first thing that Victor notices is that the sun is brighter against his eyelids than it normally is. Sleeping in isn’t ever an option for him. If it’s not Yakov pounding on his door, it’s Makkachin jumping on him to wake him up and take Victor on his morning walk.

The second is that he’s more warm and comfortable than he’s been in… well, probably in his whole life, if he’s being honest. Maybe a close second would be when Makkachin was a little pup, a mutt that he found stuck inside a bush on the grounds, half-starved and half-feral. She was limping and filthy, so he took her right to the palace healers, gave her a bath, fed her like a queen, then snuggled up in a tangle of soft curls and small limbs, no idea how large she would grow—in size and in his heart.

But this time, the warmth surrounding him, the _limbs_ tangled around him are determinably less furry, and much less smelly if he’s being honest.

Victor opens his eyes, squinting at the light and nuzzling into the softness pressed against his face. A softness that smells vaguely like the rose soap that he uses to bathe…

He opens his eyes a little farther, taking in the sleep-mussed hair before him, the sheets rising ever so subtly in small breaths beside them.

Heat rushes his cheeks—until he remembers exactly what led him to be in this position.

He should have known something was wrong when he walked into that room and the only face he recognized was a small, insignificant member of the Leroy delegation. The rest of the group less than savory in appearance, their clothes questionable, and their expressions even more so. But he was so drunk on Yuuri actually coming to him, staying here, that he didn’t think. He couldn’t make a move until it was too late, and though he put up a fight, they got a gag into his mouth before he could make his magic work, and they dragged him away. They weren't going to kill him but the lot didn’t hold back on telling him the other things they could do while waiting for their demands to be satisfied.

Tears burned at Victor’s eyes, but he wouldn’t let them see. He wouldn’t let them know that he wouldn’t be enough for anyone to stop this agreement, that he was simply a tool to the others and he would be replaced, they would make do.

But someone did come.

Yuuri came.

A different Yuuri than the one he saw at the ball, but oh so similar in his intensity, slipping in and out of shadows with a lethal grace that caused cold shivers to roll through Victor’s gut, but also grounded him in the strangest way. He knew he was safe. Even without Yuuri’s friends, and Yuri—who he would absolutely be having a talk with later—he wouldn’t doubt that Yuuri would get him out of this entirely on his own if he had to. But… was it worth the price?

Victor pulls back a little, reluctant to lose the contact, but needing to see Yuuri’s face. He had looked so distraught, trying to comfort Victor when he needed it just as much. But now he looks… peaceful. His lips parted just slightly, a sort of soft, wheezing snore slipping out. And if Victor were to be honest with himself, he wouldn’t mind waking up like this every single day. Maybe it’s a bit dramatic, maybe the residual shock from last night has made him let go of what little sense others accuse him of having, but he can’t help the thought from ringing true in his mind. He knows they fell asleep on separate sides of the bed, he’s unsure how Yuuri will feel about this, but he hopes…

Victor hesitates, but moves his half-numb arm from where it’s wrapped around Yuuri, bringing his fingers up to trace the still-dark circles underneath his eyes. Yuuri had looked tired yesterday, even before the incident. Using magic can be draining, sure, but then again he’s never seen any magic quite like like Yuuri’s. Not to mention, last night he could have _sworn_ he’d seen someone flying. He’s known a few nobles who thought they were special because they could hover a few inches off the ground, but this…

If Yuuri can use extraordinary magic, it would make sense that he’d be extraordinarily tired. All for Victor, too.

Victor frowns, clutching Yuuri closer with the arm that’s still around him, praying that he wouldn’t mind. Considering they’d both found their way to the middle of the bed, he hopes not, but…

Yuuri’s nose wrinkles as Victor’s thumb brushes it. His eyes move beneath their lids for a moment before his thick eyelashes flutter slightly more open, barely squinting at Victor.

He doesn’t tense up or pull away, though.

Victor smiles. “Good morning.”

Yuuri groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “No.”

“No?” Victor barely resists the urge to reach back out and rub away the wrinkles around Yuuri’s scrunched up eyes.

“No morning is good.” Yuuri turns, burying his face in the pillow. “Only sleep.”

Victor laughs. “Would it help if I got us breakfast?”

Yuuri hums, maybe saying words against the pillows but Victor can’t be sure.

Biting back another laugh, Victor can’t help but reach out and run a hand through Yuuri’s tangled hair, so soft despite being such a mess.

Again, Yuuri hums, but with this one his shoulders relax and he takes in a deep breath.

Well, at least he likes it, because Victor certainly does. It’s such a harsh contrast to last night, the tendrils of dark memories tugging at the corners of his mind, but fought back by the sunlight and the warmth beside him for now.

At least until Yuuri tenses back up, head whipping toward Victor with eyes somehow impossibly wider without the glasses framing them. “O-oh.”

Victor’s smile becomes a little less honest, but he doesn’t let it slide away. “Everything okay?”

“I just, well, remembered. And…” Yuuri’s cheeks grow wonderfully red. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to get so close.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” Victor still pulls back the hand in Yuuri’s hair, though, not wanting to push any boundaries before he’s invited to do so.

“I…” Yuuri relaxes, just a little as they stare at each other. He doesn’t move closer, but he doesn’t move away, eyes flicking in slight movements as he takes in Victor’s face. “Um. Did you say something about breakfast a moment ago?”

“Oh! Yes, of course, you have to be hungry.” Victor wars with his muscles as he pulls away, putting much more distance between them than he ever would have wanted to before. “Is there anything you’d like?”

“Anything, so long as there’s a lot of it.” Yuuri sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “I mean, as long as that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Victor slips out of the sheets, pleased that somehow he managed to dress himself before he went to sleep, especially considering he typically sleeps naked. “On top of being my guest, you _did_ save me last night. Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

Yuuri blinks up at him, and then frowns. “I didn’t…”

“Yes, you did, and I won’t hear any arguments about that.” Victor strides away before Yuuri can change his mind about wanting breakfast, before he can attempt to take Victor’s leverage away from him. “Besides, I—”

Victor opens the door, only to be immediately tackled down, barely managing an _oof_ before his breath is gone. His eyes struggle to focus and for a moment he _can’t move_. It’s last night again, and his hands are about to get yanked behind his back, and—

His face is getting slobbered on.

Finally, he manages to let out a shaky breath as he reaches up to pull his fingers through Makkachin’s curly fur. “You know better than this behavior, girl. Did little Yuri take you last night, and you’re already spoiled?”

She gives a soft boof, reaching down to lick him again, before her attention is drawn to a chuckle deeper in the room. Makka scrambles off Victor, giving a hard paw to Victor’s gut as she uses him for leverage to jump up on the bed and tackle Yuuri, causing the man to give a small _oof_ of his own.

“You’re so big!” Yuuri laughs, the only sight to see from Victor’s angle being Makka’s large rear, her tail wagging so fast he can barely see it.

“This is Makkachin, if you remember me talking about her yesterday. Isn’t she gorgeous?” Victor beams as he rises to his feet, making no attempt to save Yuuri from the assault.

Not that Yuuri himself makes so much a move to save himself, either. “She is! She reminds me of my Vicchan, but much, much bigger.”

“Really?” Victor tries to imagine Yuuri with a smaller dog, surely just as precious as his girl.

“Yeah, I…” Yuuri’s fingers still in Makka’s fur, his eyes losing focus. “He’s back home, with my parents.”

Victor nods, then pauses mid-motion. “Didn’t you say you haven’t been home in years?”

Yuuri smiles, but there’s no humor in it, his fingers moving again seemingly of their own accord. “Yeah. I think… I might be able to go back now, though.”

Victor smiles. “That’s wonderful, Yuuri! You absolutely should. Maybe you could bring your Vicchan back with you for him to play with Makka.”

Yuuri’s eyes snap to Victor’s. “I… don’t think that I would come back to the city again, Victor.”

It’s a testament to how he was raised that Victor’s smile stays perfectly in place. “But why not? Are you just going to leave all your friends behind?” And leave Victor here with them?

“They aren’t my friends, not really.” Yuuri looks away, turning to Makkachin’s belly as she rolls around. “They’re my coworkers, and not for much longer. Assuming I can still collect my own bounty.”

“I… Of course you can. I keep my promises.” Is that all he’s useful to Yuuri for, money? He nearly wishes he had more, something to hang in front of Yuuri as a lure, keep him there. But that’s not fair, to him or to Yuuri. Not if he doesn’t want to stay. “Just… Please remember, the castle’s hospitality will always be open to you.”

“With everything I’ve done, I can’t come back here, Victor.” Yuuri leans down to nuzzle and hide in Makkachin’s fur, a tactic that isn’t remotely fair. “First I try to steal one of the country’s greatest treasures, then I steal _you_ , and I only rescued you from people I brought here myself.”

“What?” Victor’s brow furrows. Yuuri was with others, fighting against his kidnappers—they certainly aren’t his coworkers, as he put it. He certainly wouldn’t have just _murdered_ people working with him or for Victor. That wouldn’t make any sort of sense.

“They were only able to get to you because I lowered your defenses, I let them get closer than they should have been able to get. If I hadn’t opened the way, they wouldn’t have walked in.”Yuuri takes a shaking breath. “It’s my fault. Everything that’s happened is my fault, and I don’t blame you if you don’t forgive me.”

Victor can only gape. That would make a smidgen of sense; perhaps the perpetrators got past the guards at the gate with the help of one of Yuuri’s wanted posters. Maybe they had trailed them throughout the day, overheard their conversations, lured the crooked low-ranked member of the delegation into working with them. But if they were that determined, they would have gotten in without Yuuri, and without him and his friends there to intercept… Well, Victor can quite vividly imagine what would have happened, and he’d truly rather not.

But he knows how to use his words to his advantage, how to work a room to his side of view, and more importantly, he knows when that’s impossible. Because at the moment, Victor feels like he’s talking to a brick wall.

And if he can’t talk to Yuuri now, when can he? Victor doubts that he can keep him here through the end of the day, much less long enough for Yuuri to unwind and let Victor talk to him. He can’t let go, not like this. If only he could follow Yuuri, find out where his home is—

Victor’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. He _can_. If he can find an obscure neighborhood with Chris based on some bells, surely he can manage to uncover the location of Yuuri’s family’s hot springs. He’s already given him so much information, and there can’t be that many options within two-days travel of the capital. And if Yuuri hadn’t wanted to be found, surely he wouldn’t have given Victor that much information. He’s seen the man in action, he’s a far better thief than that.

So he nods—not that Yuuri can see it, his face still buried in Makka’s wonderful, soft fur—and starts to make a mental list of all of the information he has, everything he could possibly ask while Yuuri eats breakfast.

Apparently he takes too long to think, Yuuri’s head popping up so he can eye Victor. “How long will it take before the reward is ready?”

“Hmm?” Victor can barely let himself be dragged out of his thoughts, though he knows he shouldn’t be letting this precious time he still has gone to waste.

“You said yesterday that it would take you a little while to get the money together.”

“Oh! I… Well, I do have the money ready.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrow just slightly, and Victor can almost swear he sees the shadows around him twitch. “Why did you lie?”

“Well, if I’m going to be technical about it, I do have to get it together. Though it shouldn’t take longer than it will take to eat breakfast…” Victor stops when Yuuri’s eyes only narrow further. He takes a breath, and does away with the diplomatic approach. “Because I wanted to spend time with you.”

Yuuri’s opens his mouth, but no words come out, and he looks across Victor’s face as if looking for another lie or a half-truth.

But Victor won’t hide anything, not if it will betray Yuuri’s trust again.

Yuuri finally shakes his head. “I’m not the man that you met at the ball, Victor. I’m not some dashing thief come in to steal your heart, or _you_ for any matter, even if you keep bringing it up. I’m just… me.” He takes a shaking breath. “And you don't know me.”

“Maybe not.” Victor walks over, sitting on the side of the bed, reaching out but not quite enough to grasp Yuuri’s hand as it strokes Makkachin’s fur. “But I’d like to.”

A small smile plays on Yuuri’s lips as he shakes his head again, pulling his hand through Makkachin’s fur and farther away. “You say that now, but I’m…” He bites his lip. “Well, you said it would take the length of breakfast to get the money together, yes? We should probably eat. You were very shaken up last night.”

He’s still a little shaken right _now_ , but that doesn’t exactly seem to be a priority with everything else happening. “Yes, of course, let me set things in motion. Please feel free to help yourself to anything in my wardrobe, I’m sure something will fit you.”

Half in a daze, Victor grabs clothes for himself, changes in another room as best he can, and calls for the servants to begin preparing what’s. A distant part of him runs through a list of things he should be doing, he should be contacting someone to let them know that he wouldn’t be at the usual meetings this morning—or rather, why he probably missed all of them. He should make sure that Yuri’s truly all right, despite what he said last night. Even if the teenager does have some… unsavory connections, it isn’t as if that sort of thing happens every day. And he shouldn’t leave everything to Yuri to relay to the guards, it wasn’t as if he was the one taken.

Lord, _Victor_ was the one taken.

“Victor, are you all right?” Yuuri’s voice is soft behind Victor, though it still jolts through him.

Victor turns around, a smile plastered onto his face before he can even think about it. “Yes, of course I am, how are you?”

Yuuri frowns. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you don’t have to lie, either.”

“I…” Victor’s mind falters as he tries to respond, his expression falling into something he doesn’t quite recognize on his own face. “I’m not fine now, but I’m getting there.”

The frown on Yuuri’s face disappears, flipping around into a small smile. “I’m sorry then, but also glad you’re on the mend.”

“Me too.” Victor takes a deep breath. “Now, what about—?”

A gentle knock interrupts him, servants bustling in with food and a small sack that they hand directly to Victor. For a moment he’s confused, having no idea what the contents could possibly be, until he looks up and catches the way that Yuuri’s eyes take in the fabric, calculating the contents. _Oh_. He hands it out to the other man. “Here you are. You can count, if you like.”

Yuuri takes it though he doesn’t open it, just tests the weight in his hand once before holding it at his side. “I trust you.”

Something sharp grows in Victor’s lungs. For all that Yuuri’s always insisting that he can’t be trusted, he’s trusting Victor with the money that will pay for his freedom, and whatever else he initially needed it for. How perversely hypocritical.

He can’t take his eyes away as Yuuri ties the pouch to his belt. Up against Victor’s pants that he’s borrowing.

With a sharp intake of breath, his mind finally processes that Yuuri’s in his clothes. The pants are a little long, folded up around his ankles, but the muscles of his thighs fill in the pants above, tight in a way that brings a flush to Victor’s cheeks. The shirt’s a little large too, sleeves falling down past his hands and his fingers fidgets with the fabric as Victor takes it in. He’s… well, adorable.

“I-Is everything all right?”

Victor’s eyes flash up to see that Yuuri’s blushing too, far too adorable for the man who saved his life once and nearly kidnapped him before. And more than ever before, he’s struck with the fact that he can’t let go. Until Yuuri pushes him away with no way to reach out again, he’ll continue to trail after Yuuri until Yuuri reaches out to him.

And he can only pray that, someday, he will.

“Yes, of course. More than all right.” He clears his throat, and gestures a hand toward the food. “Let’s eat?”

Yuuri nods, moving past him, eyes gleaming as he takes in the food before him.

Victor follows with a smile, something he feels like he’s going to spend a lot of time doing. Assuming he can get enough information to find Yuuri again, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TALKING! MAKKA!! VICTOR BEING SMITTEN!!! So, nothing new for this fic.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone reading for being so awesome and sticking with me and this fic!!! <3 <3 <3 I had to polish this chapter quicker than usual, so I apologize if too much of my ridiculous wording made it through.
> 
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	8. Yuuri

Breakfast is partly natural, and partly stilted and awkward, and Yuuri never thought he’d want to be as far away from the palace and Victor than he wishes to be now. Even beyond his terrible social skills, the sooner he’s away, the safer Victor will be. He _knows_ this, and yet…

There’s a part of him that wants to stay and never leave. Even though he knows he should go right now, he daydreams that he could come back. That he has any claim to be here. And not for the jewels or the gold—not that kind of treasure, anyhow. When he stops thinking long enough, he can laugh with Victor, they talk about things like their childhood, and their dogs, and things they love and hate. Victor, for instance, hates swimming and yet has never seen the ocean. Yuuri almost invites him to come home with him, but barely resists.

It’s not an option. He’s leaving for both their sakes. Victor’s safer without him, and if Yuuri doesn’t stay around he won’t get too attached to a person he could never be good enough for. Maybe he plans to leave his criminal life behind him, but it isn’t as though he can erase who he was entirely. And besides, even without his rather questionable career, what _is_ Yuuri? He isn’t even the one set to inherit the inn when his parents retire, that would be Mari. He’ll probably end up helping with the cooking and chores until the day he dies. Absolutely, unremarkably ordinary to the point that Victor could never be interested. No one ever could.

So once they’re done eating, he wastes no time in leaving, Victor insisting on escorting him to the exit—which Yuuri supposes is kind, considering he doesn’t have any idea where he even is in the palace and the guards probably wouldn’t enjoy him scaling the castle’s walls.

“Well, um,” Yuuri glances toward the gate from where they stand on the path, and can’t help that wish he could scrape up his suave persona from the night of the banquet somehow, or at least that he that was brave enough to just bolt away and avoid all of this. But no. Victor is kind and sweet, despite the fact that his reasoning to do so seems… odd. He doesn’t deserve Yuuri running from him without a farewell. “Thank you. For everything.”

Victor opens his mouth, but it seems to take a moment for him to settle on which words to say. “Of course, Yuuri. I still owe you for saving my life.”

Yuuri brushes his hand against the jingling sack at his side. “I’d say this is more than enough.”

Victor shakes his head, a small smile on his face despite an unexplainable sadness to his eyes. “Not nearly enough. Know that you’re _always_ welcome here, Yuuri. And I will find a way to make it up to you.”

Yuuri barely fights back his urge to snort. “I almost kidnapped you, I’d say we’re beyond fair.”

Victor sighs, a small spark returning to his eyes. “And I still wish you really had kidnapped me.”

Yuuri splutters for a moment, until a frown settles onto his face. “You’d really want to be kidnapped again, after…?”

Victor winces, so subtly that Yuuri almost misses it—though he doesn’t miss the urge to take his words back. “If it were you, I think it would be different.”

Having lost the heart to argue, Yuuri shrugs. “Maybe that’s why I never got into that side of the business. That and it’s against the rules.”

Victor’s brow furrows, probably questioning thieves having rules, but he shakes that off. “But it’s not against the rules _now_ , is it?” Victor smirks.

Yuuri doesn’t hold back the snort this time. “Well, I’m still technically held by those rules. You’ll have to ask me again later.”

Just a second too late, he realizes his choice of words and freezes. He wishes there was a later. But he’s shutting that door, and he knows that in the long run this will hurt less, it will be better for them both, but…

Victor’s expression softens. “I will.”

Yuuri eyes him. He says it earnestly, like it’s a truth. But if Yuuri has a say in it, he won’t ever come to this city again. He takes a breath, mentally shrugging off those thoughts. “Goodbye, Victor.”

Without warning, Victor launches himself at Yuuri, arms wrapping around him to give an almost suffocating hug. “Goodbye, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s brain takes a moment to catch up, to try and fathom to understand what’s happening, and more importantly _why_. But there’s nothing. He can’t fathom that this is anything other than a very, very strange dream. So, before he wakes up, he reaches out and wraps his arms around Victor, squeezing nearly as tight in return.

Then he turns, and walks away.

It’s strange to walk through the city without clinging to the shadows. He’s not scouting, or on a heist, or most recently, avoiding too many curious glances because he has wanted posters all around. He may still catch some attraction for that, but considering how little time’s passed between when they went up and when he surrendered himself, he doubts that there would be any trouble. Instead, he makes the way back to the hideout as a free man.

Phichit tackles him before he can get to Minako’s chambers, clinging to him as Yuuri insists he has to take care of business. It takes a lot of prying to get him to let go enough that he can escape, and even then Phichit clutches his hand and trails behind him as he makes his way through the familiar underground maze.

“Yuuri,” Minako purrs as she watches him walk in. She’s perched as she was before, legs crossed, intimidating despite being so small. “I didn’t expect to feel you come back so soon.”

He grimaces at the comment. It was easy to forget she could do that, but she does own him in more way than one. Well, not anymore. “I, um. I’ve come to pay off my debt.”

She grins. “I was wondering when I’d see you, after the tale Phichit wove of last night. Did you really take out two Leroys before they even made a move against you?”

Yuuri sucks in a breath. “Yes? I know I didn’t have your go-ahead, but they… they were just…” They were going to take Victor, who meant absolutely nothing to Minako, but everything to Yuuri.

“They had something that belonged to you, I don’t blame you in the least Yuuri.” She smirks, leaning forward. “Do you think I’d let everyone so far out of my reach if I didn’t accept their mission in some way?”

But they hadn’t taken anything that belonged to Yuuri. They’d only taken—

Heat blooms on Yuuri’s cheeks. “Victor isn’t mine.”

“Yuuri.” Phichit sighs, and Yuuri doesn’t have to look to know that he’s shaking his head.

“Do tell, how many times did he ask you to kidnap him this time?” You could cut something on the edge of Minako’s expression, and oh Yuuri was feeling the burn of it slicing through him.

“O-only once, really… I think? But that’s not the point!” He snaps, raising his voice over their snickers. “He’s not mine, and I’m going home after this.”

That shuts them up.

Minako’s eyebrow arches. “You aren’t going back to the palace?”

“Yuuri, you can’t.” Phichit grabs his arm.

But he can. Yuuri shrugs the grip off. “It… it’s been five years. I can pay off my debt, so let’s get this over with. Do you have to remove it?”

If the room was quiet before, it’s deafening now.

“Remove it?” Phichit whispers.

Yuuri shrugs. No one’s ever left Minako before, for as terrifying as she can be, she runs a fair business for people with their talents. But Yuuri never _wanted_ this, and he knew from the moment he accepted the blood oath and he received the tattoo on his back, mimicking Minako’s own on a smaller scale, that there would be no clean way out. After all, Minako’s power is one that people have been killed for simply possessing. Being able to reduce magic is one thing, but being able to amplify if to the degree she does for her thieves? It’s dangerous. Her using the tattoos as opposed to direct skin contact makes it a little less dangerous, but it’s still risky.

Obviously.

Yuuri takes a shaking breath “I imagine that Seung-gil, can do it, but—”

“No.” Minako’s voice is so cold that it saps the heat from his body.

Yuuri swallows. “No?”

“You’re family, Yuuri.” Her voice is softer now, her expression almost… tired. “I took you in as a favor. You don’t owe me anything, and therefore I won’t take anything from you.”

“I…” Something tightens in Yuuri’s chest, threatening to choke him. “But I have to pay you back.”

She shakes her head. “I know what you send your money home for, Yuuri. Use it there. We’ll miss your magic, but we won’t need your money. You’ve trained enough recruits to take your place.” Her voice wobbles, almost like…But Minako doesn’t _cry_. “Now get out before I change my mind.”

Phichit has to pull Yuuri from the room, as his feet don’t work exactly as they should. Waking up in Victor’s bed, that _hug_ , and Minako almost crying? He really is dreaming.

“Will you write?” Phichit pauses at Yuuri’s room, eyes bright and shining despite the dim light.

Yuuri ducks inside, unsure how to handle… well, anything if he’s being honest. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good. Or else I’ll hunt you down and make you.”

Yuuri laughs, and they fall into their easy bickering, just like he isn’t leaving, just like his whole life isn’t about to change. A trickle of relief runs through him at not being asked to come back to visit—maybe Phichit knows better. Maybe, if Phichit had a family to return to, he wouldn’t want to come back to visit either. So instead he invites him to visit him, and they hug, and Phichit cries, but Yuuri can’t bring himself to feel the sadness that he knows is in there somewhere. It doesn’t come when he says goodbye to whoever they pass in the halls, it doesn’t come when Yuuko sobs and makes him promise to write as well. He makes it to the train station and buys his ticket without it hitting him, and the next day of watching the countryside slips by him while barely feeling anything. He was too nervous to really take it in when he came into the city the first time with Minako, trying to focus on not vomiting all over her expensive shoes and dress.

But, somehow, all the endless fields, and then forests, and then the night sky shining brighter than he’s seen in what feels like ages, doesn’t really compare to walking in the gardens with Victor.

It’s better this way. He knows it is.

But… he doesn’t want it to be.

His calm cracks in a shuddering breath, tears spilling before the emotion washes over him, rolling up in wave after wave. He gets to go home. He gets to see Vicchan. But Phichit. And Minako. And, somehow, Victor.

Impossibly, it’s as if he’s trapped between two homes. Where he grew up, and where he’s grown to become an adult, where he found people outside of his family to hold onto. And he’s let them go.

It’s for the best.

But it doesn’t _feel_ like it is.

 

* * *

 

 

Home hasn’t changed. It’s still the same worn, wooden building, still the slight smell of sulfur in the air, still the comfort and quiet of somewhere removed enough from civilization that it feels like solitude, without truly having to be alone.

His mother greets him gladly, as does his father, and even Mari grins and ruffles his hair. But above that, Vicchan leaping up and onto him when he walks in is what makes him truly feel like he’s come home. His family knows what he’s been up to, and he can’t expect them to forgive him, but it was all for a reason, and he can never regret that reason; he can’t regret Vicchan.

“How’s he been doing?” Yuuri can’t keep the grin off his face as he looks up at Mari, his heart so, so full.

“He’s been doing fine since you started sending the money home, and the doctor could get the supplies to make the cure.” She exhales smoke from the pipe balanced in her hand. “What are you going to do now that you’re home?”

Yuuri’s fingers twitch to brush along the edges of the tattoo sprawled across his back. Though he’s glad he didn’t have to endure the pain of destroying it, he also wishes he could just erase it from his skin. “I… I got enough money. He’ll be set. And I can probably donate some money to other dogs that need treatment, and still have enough to give some to Yu-topia.”

“We don’t need your money.” The words aren’t cruel out of Mari’s mouth, just matter of fact.

Still, Yuuri frowns. “It isn’t… it’s not money from an unsavory source. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She arches an eyebrow, and Yuuri notes that she might be able to rival Minako. “That wasn’t why I said it. We’re doing fine. But now I’m curious: where _did_ the money come from?”

Yuuri scratches Vicchan’s small belly, so much tinier than Makkachin, and tells the story as best as he can. It’s not like Mari wouldn’t weasel it out of him, anyway—she’s spent far too long being his big sister for that.

But all she does is shake her head, comment, “Of course you came back after all that. Only you, Yuuri.” And leaves the room.

His mother, naturally, treats him to katsudon that night, after he soaks in the hot springs as long as he can without passing out. He sleeps like a rock, the nightmares held at bay by sheer exhaustion. The next day he visits the veterinarian who’s been treating Vicchan to take care of the last bill for treatment, and all future ones, and then some. The man nearly cries in gratitude, but Yuuri just brushes him awkwardly off. It’s the least he can do after all that Yuuri’s done to earn it—though he will never regret what he stooped to for Vicchan. No one can help when the puppy they thought was happy contracts a magical disease whose only treatment costs nearly as much as the inn that they lived in. It’s not like Yuuri could simply ask his parents to cover that kind of cost. They of course tried to talk him out of it, but never because it was for just a dog, like he feared they’d say. He said to think of it like he was off to live with extended family for a while. After all, they trusted Minako as much as you can trust any criminal.

Even if he didn’t get to see Vicchan again because of it.

But now… he’s home. And Vicchan is alive and healthy. And that’s enough.

For the first few days, anyhow.

His mom insisted on letting him rest for a couple of days, saying he’s already done so much for the inn while he was away, but he couldn’t help the itch that started to burrow beneath his skin. Once he starts pacing, she starts passing him chores. So does his father, and he even takes up Vicchan’s walks from Mari, though more often than not she’ll accompany them, maybe not quite willing to give up that time with Vicchan. A week, and then two pass, and he stays busy, nearly always on his feet.

It’s somehow still not quite right.

He’s had rest days as a thief, hell even weeks and once a whole month where there was nothing to do but wait. The next mark hadn’t come into town yet, or it just wasn’t the right time, or maybe a dry spell hit the city, or the guard being more alert than usual causing them to hide in their holes.

And it’s not as if he’s ever hated being home. It took him a year before he stopping crying every night, wishing that he could be _home_ instead of stuck in some anonymous room as an anonymous thief in an anonymous city.

This is just… different. Different in how the shops he used to buy candies and groceries at with Mari have changed owners, or shut for altogether. How there are new faces, old faces he doesn’t quite recognize. When he goes to the beach, even the shoreline feels different beneath his toes.

It’s almost as if this isn’t quite home anymore either. But if this isn’t home, where is it?

Vicchan yips and nips at the waves, making Yuuri jump, then smile as he runs forward, chasing the dog through the salty water. At least, even if it doesn’t feel like home, he has one. And now that he Vicchan him back, Yuuri can’t fathom how he made it so long alone without a warm puddle of fluff next to him in bed every night, waking him up with more enthusiasm than _anyone_ should have in the morning, trailing him throughout the day. It’s almost a spoiled life, no adrenaline, no surprises.

Eventually they head back home, his mom and dad will need help preparing for dinner service. Well, they’ll insist they don’t need help, that he’s more than earned some rest, but there’s always something that needs to be done regardless.

They’re both dry as they walk up to the front of the inn, Yuuri taking the time to kneel down and ruffle as much sand from Vicchan’s fur as possible, before opening the door—

And is immediately shoved back out, his behind slamming hard against the ground so the air knocks out of him in a whoosh, something heavy landing on his chest. Adrenaline rushes through him, every nerve firing as he tries to access the damage, gauge the situation. His fingers grope toward his ankle, but he can’t get the leverage to snatch his dagger. He wasn’t prepared, he should have been prepared. It hasn’t even been a _month_ and he’s going to die because he’s a fool.

And then something warm and _wet_ slobbers all over Yuuri’s face, and Vicchan starts yipping, and not in a terrified, murderous way.

But all that noise still doesn’t stop him from hearing the soft gasp from behind the lump of brown.

“Is that Vicchan?”

Yuuri sits up, sending the wad of fur on his chest tumbling back without even a scratch behind the ear, a cardinal sin in Yuuri’s book. But that _voice_ , he recognizes that voice.

Victor stands in the doorway to his family inn, a hat snuggly tucking away all of his gorgeous silver hair, clothes more casual than anything Yuuri’d ever imagined he would see a _prince_ in, much less Victor out of all the nobles with that title.

It isn’t like they’ve never had any important guests here. It’s the nicest inn in the area, and it draws people far and wide because of the hot springs. But never Victor. Victor, who he left behind. Victor who had helped him fund his trip back home. Victor who had somehow hunted him down _again_.

And for the first time in over two weeks, the jittering inside of him goes eerily quiet.

If only for internal screaming to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say poor Yuuri, but tbh he deserves it after not listening to everyone else in his life. Hopefully this teaches him a valuable lesson?
> 
> Thank you so, so much all of my lovely readers!!! You're all fabulous people and I don't know where I'd be without you. <3
> 
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	9. Victor

Victor expected a great many things when he decided to drop in to visit Yuuri and his family.

Yuuri going silent and then running away with his dog wasn’t exactly one of them.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be that surprising. Last time Victor decided to reach out to Yuuri, he’d assumed Victor wanted to hang him after all—even though just the _thought_ of it makes his stomach flip over, and a wash of cold flows over his skin. Yes, maybe Victor was absolutely ridiculous to hope for anything but a cold welcome from Yuuri.

Though… Yuuri _had_ saved his life. He’d seemed reluctant to go, he’d talked about everything and nothing with Victor while he prepared to leave the castle. There has to be some sort of hope. So Victor smiles at the employees—Yuuri’s family, his sister informs him with a smirk—and prepares for boredom and misery until he can get Yuuri to talk to him.

Except, that’s not what happens. Mari, Yuuri’s sister, shows him to his room and gives him a tour through the inn, even if she keeps smirking for some reason. Hiroko, Yuuri’s mother, serves him a meal, making sure that he’s comfortable and full after what she’s sure was a long trip. Toshiya, Yuuri’s father, sits down and talks with him, keeping him from falling too far into his own head while he acclimates to the new sights and sounds.

It’s all so much… softer than Victor was expecting. Yuuri’s parents are loving and adoring, and even though his sister is abrasive, it’s undermined by the kindness and care she takes when making sure Victor’s settled in all right. It could just be that they’re very good at their job, but he can’t help notice that they dote on him a little differently. And not in the delicate, distant way that they would a prince. Almost like… Maybe what he might imagine a family might be like. He wouldn’t know, though. His mother and father were distant, parenting a part of a job and not because they cared. He’s only read about proper parents in books, and how much can he trust in fiction?

He finds it’s late at night already, and instead of crying into Makkachin’s fur about perhaps a decision too rushed and impulsive, he falls asleep nearly right away.

Only to jolt awake in the new environment in the morning. It takes a few seconds of petting Makkachin to settle himself, and then he rises, peeking out of his room. It’s quiet. Perhaps it’s still very early? Well, regardless, his stomach rumbles loudly despite the number of dishes that Hiroko pushed onto him the night before. You’d think he’d have spent the day in meetings and using magic instead of just traveling. It’s a different sort of exhaustion, he supposes.

Motioning for Makkachin to follow him, he somehow manages to find his way back toward the dining room, opening the door—and freezing.

A sleep-mussed Yuuri stares at him from across the room. His glasses are a little crooked, his eyes so very wide, and a slight pink flush across his face.

“U-uh.” Is all Yuuri manages to get out for a second.

Victor’s jaw aches to open up and start rambling to fill the silence, to cut off whatever protest Yuuri might say, but he doesn’t. Yuuri should be able to say his own peace in his own home, and Victor will work to meet him there. Though if he tells Victor to leave, well… He’s never been camping before, and the lawn outside of the inn looks very comfortable.

Yuuri shifts. “Why are you in the family dining area?”

Victor blinks. “What?”

“This is… for the family? Not guests?” The pink on Yuuri’s cheeks deepens into scarlet, crawling a bit down his throat.

“Oh.” Victor blinks. “But Hiroko brought me here last night.”

“ _What_?” Yuuri stiffens, eyes flicking around.

“Well.” A voice sounds behind Victor, making him jump aside. Mari strides in, that smirk right back on her face. “How nice to see it is true that you two are already acquainted.”

Yuuri _glares_. “Why would you…? What is…?”

“Any guest of the family should eat with the family.” Mari shrugs, turning to Victor.

He’s been in the middle of politicians and royalty bickering and threatening in ways that make burning alive seem like an easy way to go, but Victor hasn’t ever quite been as afraid as he is to be between these to bickering siblings.

“Are you hungry?” Mari asks.

Victor clears his throat, bringing a practiced smile to his face. “Yes, breakfast sounds lovely.”

“I’ll go grab something.” And then that smirks crawls back onto her face. “Then you should show Victor around town while you take Vicchan for his walk.”

“B-but,” Yuuri starts, but Mari’s already stridden out of the room. “Mari!”

Tentatively, eyes never leaving Yuuri, Victor settles down at the table. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I-I…”

A soft boof sounds as Makkachin bolts across the room, shoving her head into Yuuri’s lap and startling the napping lump of fur there. Vicchan and Makkachin sniff each other before Yuuri laughs softly and begins scratching them both.

“I don’t mind.” Yuuri’s voice is as gentle as his smile, his eyes focused on the dogs.

Victor beams.

Mari comes back with both of Yuuri’s parents, and they eat breakfast, making casual conversation about what Victor should see or do while he’s there. Yuuri rarely says anything, other than to shoot down an idea or two, and Victor realizes that Yuuri’s softer here. Even at the castle he’d held an edge, kept up layers upon layers of guards. But even if he’s reserved, he smiles differently, his eyes flit around less.

And as they leave breakfast, dogs trotting at their sides, Victor can’t help but worry that Yuuri’s only that way with his family. He tries to start some conversation, but Yuuri barely responds, only really speaking to call Vicchan back when he and Makkachin start playing too far away. Aterrible clenching settles into his gut. Victor came to Yuuri in a place that’s safe for him, sacred even, without explicit invitation. Now, he’d _thought_ that Yuuri might guess he’d come with the amount of questions he’d asked, but that was assumed.

The day wears on, and they make their way through the small town. He gets to hear stories of Yuuri growing up from the townsfolk, much to Yuuri’s embarrassment. It draws him into the conversations though, and eventually he even starts looking at Victor, elaborating and correcting tales woven by those he knows, and asking what he’d like for supper, and _oh_ Victor could happily live simply off of Yuuri talking to him and smiling like this for the rest of his life.

Of course they have to return to the inn at some point, Yuuri insisting on helping out even though everyone seems to say he doesn’t need to.

When Victor wakes in the morning, a tangle of worry curls in his gut. PerhapsHe can’t help but worry the next day will start and he’ll have to start fresh with Yuuri, or he’ll ask him to leave. But instead he’s greeted with a tentative smile, and Victor wonders if he might burst.

Yuuri spends a good amount of time on chores most days, and Victor _tries_ to help out, but mostly just makes more work for the both of them. So instead he’ll stay nearby and simply talks, trying to keep Yuuri entertained as he works, offering to at least carry things when he can. He finds he’s good at talking to the guests, and naturally excellent at convincing them to order just a little more to drink, or staying one more day because they truly deserve it.

The tightness of worry doesn’t go away instantly, but as it unwinds, something else sneaks and settles warm in Victor’s chest. It makes him realize that whatever he felt for Yuuri at the castle, all the excitement and schemes and attraction, were pale imitations of what he was really looking for, what he really needed.

It thrills and terrifies him in equal measures.

A week into Victor’s stay, Yuuri offers for Victor to come along on his walk with Vicchan, but he won’t tell where he wants to go this time. It leaves him practically vibrating out the door as they leave, Yuuri laughing loudly and earnestly as he compares Victor to the dogs yipping and jumping at their feet.

How can he help himself when Yuuri’s setting up to surprise him? Victor doesn’t say as much aloud, despite the lovely flush it would spread across Yuuri’s cheeks. He doesn’t want to shut Yuuri down right now, he wants to drag him as far out of that ridiculous shell of his as possible, and dance with him down the road.

Of course he resists that, too.

But maybe… Maybe one day he won’t have to.

They head in a direction clearly taking them away from the town, which only makes the warmth in Victor’s chest grow. They walk into a forest, less dense than the ones that he saw on his travels down here, but beautiful all the same. Bird calls echo about them, the air warm and softly scented with moist soil—it had rained the night before. But the sun’s out now, the light speckled as it falls between the leaves.

Victor can’t help but admire how the streaks of light fall across Yuuri, highlighting his slightly messy hair, sometimes brushing against his long lashes, or touching his lips.

“Victor.” Yuuri’s hand tugs at his sleeve, deep brown eyes turning to look at him. “Look.”

He can’t help but frown—after all, Victor would _much_ rather keep looking at Yuuri—but then he turns, and gasps.

How he hadn’t heard the sound first is beyond him, crashing into his eardrums as waves roar onto the shore. Or the smell, salty and almost fishy, but fresh and odd and something he takes a deep breath of into his lungs. But now that he’s focused on something besides Yuuri, there’s a great expanse of blue sparkling in the sunlight, stretching out until it blends into the horizon, seemingly infinite.

“It’s beautiful,” Victor murmurs.

Yuuri smiles, eyes never wavering from Victor. “Isn’t it?”

The dogs, however, are much less in awe. They bound forward, Makkachin beating Vicchan to the water with her longer legs. She pauses, though, tentatively leaning forward and lifting a paw as the tide pulls out. Vicchan, on the other hand, has no reservations, lunging forward to somehow catch Makkachin off guard and sending them both tumbling into the next wave.

Victor laughs, gasping a bit as he tries to catch his breath from the awe. “He’s a wonderful dog.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri’s grin is a little lopsided as he continues to pull Victor forward by his sleeve. “It was worth it.”

It takes Victor a moment of trying to get his footing in the sand before he catches what was odd in Yuuri’s words. “What was?”

Yuuri stops walking. “You’ll think I’m ridiculous.”

“No, I won’t.” Not when whatever it is means this much to Yuuri.

With a sigh, Yuuri keeps walking, not having to tug Victor along this time. “I… Well, when I was younger, we got Vicchan, and he got sick. Very sick. We took him to the vet, and she diagnosed him with something almost impossible to get into remission, and then the cost of treatment itself was more than we could dream of making at the inn. But an old family friend had heard about my magic, and had been trying to recruit me to, well…” He shrugs.

“That’s why you became a thief?” Victor breathes. A tightness curls into his chest, tears pricking in his eyes. He would have done the same for Makka. It’s not even a question. Makkachin is the only family he’s had that’s loved him unconditionally for years, he understands how easily a pet can be as important as any human.

“Yes. I know it’s… _stupid_ ,” Yuuri spits out the word like it’s dirty, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Yuuri.” He reaches out, placing his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder light enough that he can shake it off if he needs to. “I understand. I don’t think it’s stupid. If my magic were anywhere near as impressive as yours, if it were my Makkachin, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”

Yuuri looks up, frowning, eyebrows tight. Incredulous. But the expression softens as he studies Victor’s face. “I… well, my magic really isn’t that impressive.”

Victor almost laughs. Of course that’s what he focuses on. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And believe me, royals would show off something like that.”

Yuuri snorts softly. “I’m sure they would. But… it’s amplified. My employer marks her employees, and she can affect their powers with that link. She can track them that way, too. It’s not all me.”

Ah, so that explains how his friend was flying then. “Still, shadow manipulation is impressive in general. And that amplification sounds terrifying. To take the risks you do? And to learn how to fight like that? I say that I’d do it, but I wonder if I _could_.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “To be a thief you have to learn to move like shadows anyway, it’s not that impressive.”

“Yes, but they can’t move _in_ shadows, can they?” Victor tightens his grip just a bit. “Regardless of what you think, I’m impressed by you.”

Yuuri’s frown only deepens. “I’ll bet it’s nothing compared to your magic.”

A laugh bubbles out of Victor before he can help it, Yuuri’s head snapping toward him at the flat sound. “It isn’t. Believe me.”

Yuuri just tilts his head, the question not needing to be asked.

Victor sighs. “I… can persuade others. Only if they’re leaning a certain way. It lets me get a better feel and an understanding of people and their intentions, though it’s vague. I know the words to push people in a certain direction, to convince them of what they should do. It’s truly something that someone without magic could do.”

“Oh.” Yuuri looks away. “That’s why, with the guests… Have you ever, um, used it with me?”

“No.” Victor steps in front of Yuuri, unwavering until Yuuri meets his eyes. “I haven’t. I hate it, I despise being a useless prince being manipulated into manipulating because I’m a useful chess piece to the powers that be.”

It’s more than he’s ever thought about before, more than he’s allowed himself to think in such words, but the truth burns as it bursts fully realized into his thoughts and out of his mouth. Still, he manages a small smile. “Well, actually, that’s a bit of a lie. I did try to use it when I asked you to kidnap me, but you didn’t respond positively. Alas, I couldn’t even ask the kidnapper to take me away from that monotonous job of mine.” He’d hoped that Yuuri was interested enough to want him, he knew Yuuri truly meant him no harm, and he’s self-aware enough to know he’s attractive to many—but even that angle didn’t work. It was like arguing with a wall, one he couldn’t help but want to climb over. “At least the position made it so I had the money to catch your interest again.”

“Victor.” Yuuri’s expression is soft, just as gentle as this entire town seems to be, slipping into Victor’s chest and squeezing. “I didn’t want to own you, or use you as some pawn. I came in to hand myself over and accept the reward because Vicchan needed it, and I didn’t want my face being revealed to result in the others getting caught. And I was afraid I’d bring more trouble by staying at the castle, so I left. Not because I was done using you, or anything like that.” He takes Victor’s hand, giving a slight squeeze. “You’re worth more than all the gold in the world, more than the world itself. You. Not your magic. Not your money. Not how you dance—though you are an amazing dancer. You.”

Victor blinks, mind numb, mouth useless. Who even is Victor? He can’t see it. But Yuuri, apparently, can. “I’m not sure whoever I am is worth all of that.” The honesty slips out before he can help it, and he snaps his mouth shut as heat trails along his cheekbones.

“It is.” Yuuri smiles, turning away to look at the ocean. “It is to me.”

Victor’s breath catches in his throat, and he has to blink away tears—thank goodness Yuuri had looked away. “You too, Yuuri,” he murmurs, following his gaze to the crashing waves glittering like diamonds, brilliant and almost otherworldly compared to the rest of the world that Victor knows. “No matter what you say about yourself, I’d trade the world for you in a heartbeat.”

Yuuri glances back up at him, cheeks beautifully flushed. “V-Victor…”

He just smiles, reaching out to brush his hand along the warmth of Yuuri’s cheek, something soft pooling inside him from the simple gesture. Yuuri leans into it, that smile back on his face, and Victor can’t help but wonder if this will kill him, if he could die of happiness. It’s as if he was an abandoned house, long since empty and overgrown. But Yuuri’s cleared away the weeds, he’s opened the shutter to let sunlight shine into the dusty room, and brought the tools to help him feel… loved. Not used, but taken care of. And he has work to do too, of course he does. But he’s not alone in this.

A splattering of water across his face snaps Victor out of his thoughts, Makkachin having decided it’s time to check on her humans right then.

Yuuri laughs, bright and loud, as he blocks his glasses from getting too splattered, before grabbing Victor’s hand and dragging him along the beach to chase after the dogs.

If he could, Victor would live the rest of his life buried in this moment, in this town, in the way Yuuri’s eyes sparkle as he looks back at him. But a there’s a small, nagging voice in the back of his mind wondering how long he can have this. His absence from negotiations with the delegation will only be tolerated for so long before they insist he returns. Everything had been convoluted after the Leroy gang had abducted him—even if the delegation itself only wants peace, its undeniable one of their members was involved. Victor may not have told anyone where he went when he made his excuses and slipped away, he may have hidden his tracks as best he can, but that won't stop someone from finding him.

It’s only a matter of time before he has to leave Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear it’s a happy ending we’re getting to, these dorks just need to get their priorities straight.
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for supporting and continuing to read this silly fic! I really appreciate every single comment and kudo!!!! I'll be a bit busy today, so I may be responding to comments tomorrow, but nothing can keep me from reading them throughout the day. :D 
> 
> In the meantime... I accidentally wrote [a not-quite-crack Victuuri ball pit fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194069) yesterday? So that's a thing.
> 
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	10. Yuuri

“Victor?” Yuuri glances up at him as they sit at the table, shoulders touching. Every small contact makes his heart beat a little faster, yet somehow keeps him a little more settled into his skin. Honestly, he hasn’t felt so comfortable since… well, probably since waking up in Victor’s bed with him, back at the castle.

“Hmm?” Victor glances up from devouring a bowl of katsudon, a grain of rice on his cheek. He smiles a bit as he catches the flush on Yuuri’s cheeks.

Yuuri internally grimaces. Of course he had to think about that _now_. “Well, I was wondering if you knew what you’d like to do today?”

“Oh? It looks like you might have something in mind.” Victor taps Yuuri’s cheek.

With a sigh, Yuuri scowls. “Well, no. But you’re always trailing me around, and I figured that you might like to do something other than what I have to suggest, or helping me or my family out. I’m sure it’s boring.”

Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, pulling him close. “I’ve never been happier. So long as I’m not annoying you, I’d be happy to continue this until the day I die.”

Barely thinking about it, Yuuri leans into his warmth. “You really hated castle life enough that cleaning the baths makes you happy?”

Victor just hums in response. Because he knows as well as Yuuri does that it’s not the baths that brought Victor here, not the hot springs despite how much he enjoys soaking in them, not the absurd amount of his mom’s cooking that Victor eats, not even the beach. And Yuuri wants to protest it, but after having collected his own reward and being tracked down in impossible locations _twice_ by this ridiculous man, he can’t find the words refute what has to, somehow, be the truth.

So he sighs, and looks up at Victor. “Maybe you could help my dad check in guests today? There are going to be quite a few and you’re, uh, you know. Good at talking to them.”

“You mean, good at talking them into indulging?” Victor winks at him.

Yuuri snorts. “Something like that.” He picks a little more at his own breakfast, glancing at Victor more often than not.

“What?” Victor eyes Yuuri, catching him in his thinking.

“Um, you know, it’s all right if you wanted to stay.” Yuuri looks at the opposite wall, studying details he’s seen thousands of times. “You said it before as if you weren’t staying, that you had to go back to the castle at some point, but… you could.”

Victor lets out a breath. “I want to…”

“But?” Yuuri pulls away a little, looking up at him.

“But… it’s not that simple as walking away and staying here.” It’s Victor’s turn to look away now, his eyes turned to a corner of the ceiling. “There’s a responsibility for me to fulfill. I am a prince, after all—even if I’m so far from the throne I might as well not have the title.”

“But they’re surviving fine without you there, aren’t they? Even though it’s an important time?” Yuuri prods, a niggling in his brain pushing him to dig deeper.

“I-I suppose.” Victor brings a finger to his lip as a furrow forms in his brow. “But, I’m a prince. I owe it to the country to serve everyone to the best of my ability.”

He recites it, like something that he’s been told and told others dozens of times. He probably has.

Yuuri scowls. “You don’t owe anyone anything. You never asked to be a prince.”

“No, but I _am_ one. It’s my duty.”

Yuuri gives a small huff, turning away. If they can survive without Victor, if he loathes the position so much he’s looking to get kidnapped, easily willing to risk it all to chase after a thief who nearly nabbed the crown jewels, he doesn’t care about the position enough to stay. And if he were willing to leave, it’s not like he’d be out on the street with Makkachin—he sees how much the rest of Yuuri’s family has doted on Victor during his entire stay here. He’s even given them more business while he’s been helping out.

So _why_?

A thudding from the hall jolts Yuuri from his thoughts, a voice yelling out and not at all pleased.

“Didn’t Mari take Makkachin and Vicch—“ Yuuri turns and the words fall flat in his mouth as he takes in how pale Victor’s gotten. “Victor?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he unwraps himself from Yuuri and starts toward the door.

“Victor?” Yuuri scrambles up after him. “What’s wrong?”

But Victor doesn’t get so much as a second before the door to the dining room slams open, and a short figure struts in.

Yuuri squints. “Small Yuri?”

“Do _not_ start that up again.” Small Yuri growls. “Not after you kidnapped the old man.”

“Yuuri didn’t kidnap me, _Small Yuri_ ,” Victor grins, all teeth and no humor.

“Oh really?” Small Yuri jabs a finger at Victor’s chest. “Then why are you out in this backwoods hellhole?”

Victor grabs his hand and pulls it away. “Yuri, this is not a hellhole, and I will have you respect this establishment and its employees. Do you understand?”

Small Yuri, to his benefit, only blinks and yanks his hand back.

Yuuri can only gape. He’s never heard Victor’s tone like that. “V-Victor, it’s all right, he’s just—”

“No, it isn’t.” But a breath leaves Victor, along with whatever resolve had him snapping at Small Yuri, and he slumps. “I suppose you found me to bring me back, haven’t you?”

Yuuri stands up now, taking a few steps toward Victor. “But…”

“Maybe I’ll drag you back after you wipe the food off your face,” Small Yuri spits the words at Victor, if a little less vehemently than before. “Disgusting.”

“What?” Victor reaches up to feel the wrong cheek, then glances back. “Yuuri, why didn’t you tell me?”

The words vaguely register in his mind, but mostly all Yuuri can comprehend is the pit forming in his gut, huge and dark and cold. He knew Victor would go, but he thought he had more time. He thought that maybe Victor might change his mind and stay, or that maybe Yuuri himself would feel okay with going back _with_ Victor. But his own guilt still gnaws at him, and a large part of him doesn’t want to just wait around while Victor’s miserable in meetings and conferences.

So in some fit of bravery, or maybe stupidity, Yuuri stands up on his toes and presses his lips to Victor’s cheek and plucks off the grain of rice in a gentle kiss. “You’ll come back, right?” he barely whispers against Victor’s skin, not entirely trusting his voice not to crack.

A choking sound breaks Yuuri away, turning to find Small Yuri gagging.

Yuuri’s cheeks _burn_. Victor just stares at him, mouth popped open in a small “o,” his wide, blue eyes fixed on Yuuri, while Small Yuri starts… growling? It doesn’t seem like a sound a human should be making, and yet here he is.

“I-I, I shouldn’t have, um.” Yuuri takes a step back, but Victor’s hand is on his wrist, lightly tugging him back so gently that he could refuse. But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t.

Victor’s other arm curls around the small of Yuuri’s back, pressing their bodies together. Yuuri glances up, mouth poised to ask a question he’s not even sure the contents of yet, but then Victor’s lips meet his and everything freezes. Yuuri’s heart ricochets around his chest for one moment, then two. And then he melts. He leans into Victor, pushing them together more urgently, taking Victor’s lower lip between his own while he reaches up, running his fingers through his soft, silvery hair. If he could, Yuuri would _live_ this close to Victor, wrapped up in the heat of him, in the sturdiness of his frame, surrounded by the soft musk that his skin holds new that he’s away from whatever perfumes and soaps he smothered himself in at the palace.

But eventually, too soon, Victor pulls away. He rests his forehead against Yuuri’s, eyes fluttering shut as Yuuri’s hands keep wandering across his scalp. “The delegation should leave in two weeks, hopefully. I should… I’ll make it back here. Somehow. I swear.”

Yuuri just gives the barest of nods, smiling a little as Victor opens his eyes, and is rewarded with one in return. He doesn’t have to say that he doesn’t want to go, they both know it. Just like they both know he can’t say no.

Victor suddenly jolts out of Yuuri’s grip, Small Yuri’s foot jabbing him in the shins while he seethes, eyes wide and teeth bared.

“What is this shit?” Small Yuri finally relents, both feet settling on the ground. “Victor, you’re worse than _Georgi_.”

Victor laughs, a small huff more than anything. “Well, maybe I feel a little more sympathetic towards Georgi’s plight.”

Small Yuri raises an eyebrow, giving him a moment to think about what he just said.

Victor grimaces. “Fine, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But also,” he steps back into Yuuri’s space, re-winding his arms around him, “I’m not Georgi, I wouldn’t fall for an Anya.”

“Who?” Yuuri murmurs, burrowing into Victor’s shirt, so soft and so very _him_. Something he can’t have for two weeks for reasons they both hate.

Victor hums slightly, considering. “A dramatic friend of mine.”

Yuuri grins. “Ah, that’s where you get it from.”

Small Yuri snorts, and Yuuri wonders if it’s as close to approval as he’ll ever get from the kid.

“How rude.” Victor brushes his lips against Yuuri’s forehead, and a sigh escapes Yuuri’s mouth without his permission.

It isn’t fair that Victor kisses him right before he has to leave. He’s half-tempted to chase him, just like Victor’s been chasing Yuuri. But…

Victor takes a deep breath. “I… I should go.”

Yuuri’s jarringly reminded that he did the same thing to Victor after they’d woken up in the same bed together, announcing right away that he was _leaving_ , and the word he’s dying to say almost escapes his lips. But he can’t ask a prince to abandon his duties for a thief. He won’t ask for him to stay. So, instead, he nods and murmurs, “Okay.” He peels himself away from Victor, looking at the floor. “You should get your things, and Makkachin.”

“Oh. I should, shouldn’t I?” The words seem more for himself than anyone else and Victor turns and leaves the room, the sound of his feet padding against the floor slowly fading away.

Yuuri lets out a breath, trying and failing to let the tension leave his body as well. How are they going to make this work?

“I can’t believe I lost the damn bet,” Small Yuri mutters, crossing his arms.

“What?” Yuuri cocks his head at him.

Small Yuri sighs, and then scowls. “Phichit said that by the time I got here you two would’ve hooked up already. I said hell no, and we bet on it. I shouldn’t have come at all.”

“I—we’re not! Well…” Yuuri shakes his head, and then grins. Yuuri’s not sure what he and Victor are exactly yet, but they’ll get there. “Why, because you’re a sore loser?”

Small Yuri just shakes his head, somehow not rising to take the bait. “No. Because he’s going to be even more insufferably miserable once we get back.”

All good humor floats out and away from Yuuri, dry and dead like leaves from an autumnal tree. He lets that topic drop with it, instead latching onto the oddest part of Small Yuri’s story. “Did you say Phichit? Why were you talking to him?”

“How else do you think I tracked Victor’s sorry ass down?” Small Yuri tosses his hair from his face, so he can give Yuuri his full glare. “I’m the only person who ever figured out who you _really_ were. I asked Otabek to help out when I saw him next in the fighting rings, and Phichit was the only one who knew where you lived and was willing to talk. His only condition was that I bring back any news of you with me.”

Yuuri nearly rolls his eyes. Of course Phichit would do nearly anything for some gossip on Yuuri. It isn’t as if he’s exactly made the time to write him since Victor showed up. “So no one else knows where Victor went off to?”

Small Yuri hesitates, then shakes his head. “If Yakov wasn’t breathing down all our necks in retaliation for Victor ditching us all _now_ , I wouldn’t have even come. And if I’d…” He shifts on his feet, eyes flicking to Yuuri a few times while he decides what to say next, or maybe if he even wants to say anything. “If I’d known how happy he was, I wouldn’t have come to drag him off.”

_That_ was a happy Victor to him? Miserable about leaving? What on earth was Victor like at the castle? What will he be like when he comes back? _If_ he does? Yuuri shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the bitterness grating against his insides from seeping into his words. “Well, it’s done now. He’s choosing to go back. We’ll just…” Yuuri shrugs again.

“I’m just going to say it, then.” Small Yuri huffs, walking straight up to Yuuri and jabbing a finger at him now. “Victor won’t do anything directly against the rules nowadays unless someone tells him to do it, or drags him away to do it. Yakov’s had him under his thumb for way too long, and I think… well, he’s broke him. So, _if_ Victor went missing again, I don’t think I’d look in the same place twice. Do you understand?”

Yuuri nods dimly, though if he’s being honest, he _doesn’t_ understand. Small Yuri wants him to—what, exactly? Tell Victor what to do, just like Yakov and all the people at the palace that Victor hates would? Drag him away from duties that Victor thinks are important enough to leave and throw himself back into a life he doesn’t so much as remotely like? It isn’t Yuuri’s choice to make.

Not that he thinks arguing with the kid would be productive, though.

“It’s quiet in here.” Victor walks in, balancing a bag on his shoulder while Makkachin trots at his feet.

Makka comes up to Yuuri and demands pets with a soft “boof” that has Yuuri powerless to deny her. He doesn’t look away from Victor as he bends down to scratch around her ears. “That’s a lot smaller than what you came with.”

Small Yuri snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

“All the more motivation for me to come back.” Victor walks in, kneeling next to Yuuri. With tentative movements, as if he’s not sure they’re welcome, he runs his fingers under Yuuri’s jaw, tilting his head to catch Yuuri in another kiss, the press of his lips short but sweet.

“Oh, because that won’t be enough to bring you back?” Yuuri half-teases, reaching out to take a hold of Victor’s hand, much to Makkachin’s chagrin.

Victor stares a moment, before a quick laugh escapes his lips. “Well, I may be running from the castle the moment I can, regardless of whether I have time to pack or not.”

“Well, you’d better not forget Makkachin.” Yuuri laughs as she perks up at her name.

“Yuuri!” Victor gasps. “Do you only keep me around for my dog?”

“Well, Vicchan does need his playmate…” Yuuri grins.

Small Yuri clears his throat. “Are we going, old man?”

Victor squeezes Yuuri’s hand before nodding and then letting go. “I’ll be back.”

“You’d better.” Yuuri tries to make his voice stern, but he can’t help the wobbling. “Don’t make me have to kidnap you.”

Victor winks at him. “Oh, I do wish you would.” Then he gestures to Makkachin, and… he’s gone.

“Remember what I said,” Small Yuri spits at him before stalking out after Victor.

Yuuri takes a shaking breath, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. It’s not permanent. Victor will come back. He has to come back. But how long would he be here next time?

The sound of tiny claws tapping against the floor draws Yuuri’s gaze up just in time before Vicchan hops up onto Yuuri’s lap, curling up and settling in.

“So I take it we’re one guest short?” Mari pokes her head in and looks around before taking a step in. “Mom and Dad said that there was an angry teenager here for Victor.”

Yuuri just nods, knowing if he opens his mouth the tears will start falling. It’s nothing that Mari hasn’t seen before, but he doesn’t want her to have to deal with it. It’s not like he has a good reason. He planned on leaving Victor permanently before he’d found Yuuri here. What a hypocrite he is.

“I’ll get Mom then.”

Before he can protest, Mari’s gone.

He frowns at Vicchan, fingers moving erratically as he tries to smooth out his fur; an impossible task, but one that takes up his time. He could go try and hide in his room, but that would only delay the inevitable. Best to get all of these emotions done and out of the way in one swoop.

His mom walks in shortly after with a tray of tea, taking a moment to pour each of them cups. Yuuri waits for the dread to well up in him, but he can’t quite manage it. If it’s because he’s just too exhausted to care anymore, or if it’s because it’s his mom and, despite the fact that she will tell him the truth always, regardless of whether or not he wants to hear it, she’s never lead him wrong or has been malicious on purpose. It’s the nice thing about a family like his—they’ve had so many years to learn and respect each other, that they’ve long since learned and grown from their mistakes—even if Yuuri’s been gone awhile.

“So, Vicchan left?” She finally starts, lifting her cup to her lips.

Yuuri glances down at the dog in his lap, frowning.

“No, no, not your puppy.” There’s a gleam in her eye as she smiles. “ _Your_ Vicchan.”

“M-Mom!” Yuuri snatches out and grips the table, steadying himself. “He’s not _mine_.”

“Would that really be so bad?” She looks at him over her glasses.

Yuuri swallows, prying off his fingers and reaching out for his cup of tea. “He’s not something to own.”

“No, a person isn’t meant to be owned.” She takes a moment to think about that. “And yet, I’m _your_ mom. Mari is _your_ sister. We don’t own each other, but we belong to each other in certain ways. So, he’s your Vicchan, just like I imagine you’d like to be his Yuuri.”

“I… How do you…?” Yuuri gives up on trying to speak, instead sighing and focusing on his tea.

She smiles. “You are a great many things. You are loving, and you are caring. You are my son. But subtle is not one of them.”

Yuuri nearly spits out his drink, and his mother’s grin only grows.

“Well, did you ask Vicchan to stay before he left?” She arches an eyebrow.

Yuuri huffs. “I offered this morning.”

“Was that before or after the child showed up?”

“Um, before.” He sets down his cup, deciding everyone’s safer that way. “I said that he could stay here.”

“But you didn’t _ask_ him to stay?” she presses.

“Well…” Yuuri tries to think back. “Not in so many words? But, Mom, he’s a _prince_.”

“And you’re his Yuuri.” She takes another sip of tea, like that’s that. “If he had, for instance, wanted you to come with him, wouldn’t you have wanted him to ask?”

Yuuri opens his mouth, and then snaps it shut. It would be different, then. Because Yuuri… Yuuri constantly feels unworthy of others’ time. Sort of like how Victor feels others are entitled to his time. And Yuuri being aware of his self-confidence doesn’t always help, but it can help others know how to help Yuuri.

So now… Maybe it’s time to figure out how to help Victor.

Yuuri’s mom beams at him. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

He smiles, daring to take hold of his teacup again. After all, what good is having heightened magical powers and a criminal past if he can’t kidnap a lowly prince?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prayer circle for Yuuri to kidnap Victor's very willing ass.
> 
> As always, huge thank you to you guys for all your love and support!!! <3 <3 <3 Please forgive this heckin' short note, I'm recovering from a wicked migraine and need rest and hugs.
> 
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	11. Victor

It’s going to take longer than two weeks.

It isn’t even for any good reason. All talks have concluded, documents have been signed. But Victor’s a prince who can plaster on smiles and pretend to be happy even when he’d rather just curl up int a corner of his chambers with Makkachin than attend _another_ function to celebrate more nonsense that they barely even need him for.

He almost walks right out of the castle and across the country back to Yuuri again and again—at least a dozen times every day. But they’ll always need him for _something_. He can’t hide anywhere that they won’t drag him back from. If only Yuuri had _actually_ kidnapped him, hidden him away from the world at large, and then no one would be able to find him. Though, if he _had_ , he wouldn’t exactly be the same Yuuri he cares so deeply about, would he?

He leans back on the chaise, sighing.

“What are you daydreaming about?” Chris pokes his side, a knowing grin on his face.

Victor fixes his gaze on him, unamused. If only he could just leave… but he would get nowhere with Yuri and Chris right here. Yuri knows exactly where he’d go—though it seems he hasn’t told anyone else, much to Mila’s chagrin—and Chris somehow, as per usual, seems to know more than he should. Then again, he’s the one who pointed Yuuri out to Victor to begin with, and then led him to Yuuri again despite the not-quite-kidnapping, so if he were to trust anyone, it should be him.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Chris pats his shoulder. “It shouldn’t be longer than a couple of hours at tonight’s celebration, and the crowd is larger than normal so you can go and sulk in a corner all you’d like.” He pauses to smirk. “I think you should at least have a dance or two, though.”

“Good luck with that.” Yuri snorts from where he’s glaring at Makkachin—something Victor would normally scold him for, but the teen _is_ letting her sprawl across his lap with no complaint.

“You want to bet on that?” Chris turns his grin toward Yuri.

Yuri scowls. “Shut up, pervert.”

“Hey.” Chris pouts. “I’ve been good today.”

“ _Today_.” Yuri rolls his eyes.

Maybe now would be a good time for Victor to make his escape. These two could bicker well into the night easily, and no one other than Yakov would care that he was gone—

“Don’t even think about it.” How _dare_ Chris sound so chipper about destroying his chances of happiness?

Not that he would really attempt his escape anyway… He heaves another sigh.

“Get dressed, we need to get going.” Chris waves him off, taking a few steps away.

“And if I don’t?” It’s childish, of course it is, but Victor can’t help but ask.

“Then Yakov will send guards to drag you out while you’re still a mess, and then he’ll scold you in front of the entire assembly, and probably lose another inch of his receding hairline, poor fellow. Now, it would be more entertaining for _me_ if you decided to go down that path, however I assume you don’t particularly want to be manhandled. Not by the guards, at least.” Chris throws him a wink.

“Fine.” Victor rises up, heading toward his door. “I’ve heard enough threats for the evening, I suppose.”

Yuri snorts at that. Victor sends him a look, but the kid only shrugs. “You’re so dramatic.”

Well, he can’t entirely argue with that. Victor shrugs off the comment, walking into his room and flitting through his wardrobe. He knows he’s had new clothes made for the entirety of this visit, ridiculous as it was, but his fingers hover over the maroon and pink fabric that he’d worn so many weeks ago, mask tied to his face, twirling around the ballroom with a dark stranger. Something in his chest tugs with the memory, forcing him to draw the jacket out, while barely resisting the urge to cling to it. They wouldn’t notice if he wore the same thing again, surely. It’s a little flamboyant for the normal fashion, but nearly everything from the Leroy kingdom is more flashy than needed. It would give him something to cling to while he pushes through this nonsense. A lifeline, if you will.

Indulging himself, he takes his time to put on the outfit, almost sad to find it clean of Yuuri’s subtle sent even though he carried Victor around all that night—but of course it would have been thoroughly cleaned. It would have been thrown out, save for Victor’s insistence that it shouldn’t be.

But it was worth that small battle, in the end. The staff didn’t know what to think of it, Victor being so insistent on this. When he was younger, a teenager they could barely contain, they would just muffle their sighs and go about their work, but now… Now Victor’s just as boring as Yakov, isn’t he?

Rapping at the door startles Victor from his thoughts.

“What the hell are you doing in there?” Yuri snaps through the door. “You don’t need to prep that much for some old geezers who are only going to talk about themselves, loser.”

Well, it isn’t like Yuri’s not right.

“If you get out here now, perhaps I might be able to get you out of it all earlier. I _am_ quite talented with distractions.” Chris purrs through the door, followed by a quick scuffle as Yuri inevitably tries to kick him in the shins.

More to make sure no one ends up being murdered than anything else, Victor strides over to the door, opening it to find Yuri baring his teeth and Chris grinning like an angel. Victor sighs, yet again. “Let’s head out.”

Yuri grumbles, heading toward the couch.

“You know, I appreciate your offer to keep Makkachin company, but you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.” Victor’s sure he’s said those exact words at least a hundred times since Yuri had offered, but he can’t help himself. He can’t fathom what made the teenager volunteer to keep Makkachin company, and he’s a bit terrified to find out.

“Shut up,” Yuri mutters as he flops down.

Before Victor can procrastinate any further with more questioning, Chris loops his arm around Victor’s and drags him out of the room so fast that he barely utters out his goodbye to Makkachin.

“That was rude,” Victor mutters as they traipse through the hallways, the insects beginning their chorus in the gardens as the sun dips low against the horizon.

“Not as rude as you being late.”

Victor rolls his eyes. “So long as I show up, no one will care if I’m fashionably late.”

Chris snorts. “You’d be surprised.”

“Would I, now?” Victor glares at Chris. He’s never been much one for formality, honestly it would be more surprising For Chris to show up on time—not that he has nearly the same number of responsibilities as Victor, even if he’s finding that as each meeting goes by he might as well be decoration in the room. He can sit there and not say a word, not use a hint of his magic, and no one gives a damn, no one asks him to speak up more.

Which makes it all the more odd that Chris, of all people, would be telling him he needs to go to this celebration or dance or whatever the hell it is. He hadn’t been paying attention when he was told to attend. He’d consider that Chris had some sort of surprised in store for everyone, for better or worse, but that doesn’t work Yuri into the mix of it. Because if Chris is acting odd, Yuri’s activity is even stranger.

Yuri’s been quieter since he and Victor got back. Victor had assumed that maybe the teenager felt a built guilty for how miserable Victor had been, but eventually the anger returned even worse than before.

Until the teen offered to look after Makakchin.

“What are you _up_ to?” Victor eyes Chris, trying to find something out of place.

Chris only grins. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“And you aren’t going to tell me?” Victor frowns.

Again, Chris winks. “Do you even know me, my friend?”

Victor shakes his head, his limbs feeling weighted. What he wouldn’t give to just go back to Makkachin.

Still, they end up at the party, catching more than a few stares as they arrive late. Chris plays the crowd, making a witty comment that Victor drowns out. He’s too busy glancing around for—there. The refreshment table. Skirting around the crowd of people talking and laughing and dancing, he makes it over to where a generous amount of glasses are filled with champagne.

Good, he’ll need it.

“I don’t suppose I could ask for this dance?”

Victor whips around so fast it takes a moment for his eyes to focus, settling on warm, sparkling brown irises in front of him.

Not trusting himself to speak, he instead nods, and familiar arms wrap around him in an unfamiliar way, whirling him onto the dance floor.

For a while, all he can do is stare down at the man in front of him. He’s dressed differently than last time he danced in this castle, a deep blue suit that clings to his form in a way that is different yet just as tempting as the black number he wore before. But like last time he isn’t wearing his glasses, and his hair is slicked back. It’s beautiful, _he’s_ beautiful, and just looking at him soothes an ache deep in Victor’s bones that he didn’t realize he’d been suffering from.

“How come…” Victor starts after who knows how long, maybe a single dance or maybe five. It would never be enough. “How come no one told me anything?”

Yuuri’s grin turns a little lopsided. “Well, rumor has it that has it that you’ve been pouting—”

“I have _not_ been pouting.” Victor gasps. 

Yuuri chuckles, a vibration that sings across Victor’s skin. “But you’re pouting now.”

Victor shoves out his bottom lip. “No, this is pouting.”

Yuuri laughs harder, drawing a few glances as they slow down in their dancing. “Well, if people saw you acting odd, they might suspect something.”

Victor examines him for a moment, trying to piece everything together in a way that remotely makes sense. It has to do something with whatever Chris and Yuri are up to, after all Chris hinted enough toward something, but _what_? “Yuuri, do you have something planned?”

He grins, eyes twinkling in the dim light. “Maybe.”

“But…” Victor frowns. “What part does Chris and Yuri have to play in all of this?”

Yuuri tilts his head, as if considering what to let Victor know. “Well, Yuri was our initial contact, but he couldn’t be here tonight so he could only help so much. To get the invite, I had to get Chris’s help again.”

Victor nods along, and then pauses. “Wait, _again_?”

“Um.” Yuuri’s eyes flick away. “He’s the one who helped me get in to attempt to seduce you for the crown jewels.”

“What?” Victor gapes.

“He said that, well…” Yuuri’s cheeks burn crimson, and he doesn’t lift his gaze. “That you could use a good time and might be easy? So long as we did nothing to hurt you.”

Victor blinks down at him, mind racing to piece it together. Well then, that explains why Chris was so much help in finding Yuuri. He can’t help but laugh, hanging his head a bit. “I suppose Chris knew my type before even I did.”

If possible, Yuuri goes even redder. It takes everything In Victor not to draw him close, to nuzzle into that soft black hair, to kiss him senseless like he’s needed to ever since Yuuri plucked that grain of rice from his cheek. But there are too many people here, and to draw all of that attention like that would certainly be a mistake when no one other than Victor and Chris know who Yuuri is.

Yuuri catches his gaze, eyes darkening as he reads Victor’s face. Then he leans in closer. “What do you say we get out of here?”

Victor’s heart hammers in his chest, but he keeps moving, and he keeps his voice calm. “Oh, what do you propose?”

Yuuri’s grin turns into something wicked, a shiver running down Victor’s spine. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, Yuuri reaches up and tucks Victor’s fringe behind his ear.

Something smashes on the other side of the room, the glass tinkling across the floor too loud as the orchestra stops. And then someone starts screaming.

Victor turns to look back, see if he can offer help, but Yuuri tugs him back, guiding him along the edge of the room and out of a small door that he didn’t even notice was there.

He tries to pull Yuuri to a stop then, but the man’s relentless. He tries to throw his thoughts into something coherent, instead. “Wait, is everything—”

“Chris is very good at distractions, apparently.” Yuuri doesn’t glance back as he drags Victor along, instead taking his glasses from his coat pocket and slipping them on. “But everyone’s fine, don’t worry.”

“What…?” Victor can only gasp, breathless from too many things, all at once.

They run along a bit farther, darkness and greenery blurred at the sides of Victor’s vision before Yuuri leaps over the railings of the path and into the garden, holding out his hand for Victor.

And despite everything still spinning around him, despite his absolute confusion at all the events of this evening, Victor takes the offered hand within an instant. He climbs up and over the railing with much less grace than Yuuri, but never fears falling with the hand gripping his.

To his credit, Yuuri doesn’t laugh. Instead, his eyes are focused in the distance. He gently tugs them forward again, going at a pace that isn’t quite running, but enough to make Victor start panting all the same. It’s almost as if Yuuri knows the grounds better than Victor does—in fact, maybe he does. The moonlight shines down, barely illuminating their path as they move further and further from the main buildings, toward the fences that surround the edge of the castle.

“Ugh, _finally_.”

A small figure steps out from the cover of a nearby tree, followed by—

“Makkachin!” Victor drops Yuuri’s hand only to catch the dog as she nearly tumbles them over.

“Thank you, Yuri.” Yuuri’s voice is gentle, almost tender. “Did you get everything else, too?”

“Of course I did.” Yuri scoffs. He gives a half-wave, walking away from them at a brisk pace. “See you idiots around.”

Yuuri tilts his head slightly, considering the teenager’s retreating form.

Victor stares between the two of them for a moment, wondering what exactly he just witnessed. “Not that I don’t appreciate you stealing me away from that awful party and into the paws of the ever-lovely Makkachin,” Victor starts slowly, his words careful, “but I don’t think it was quite worth all this preparation.”

“I, um. I’m not here just to take you from the party, though it was a little awful.” Yuuri wrinkles his nose, then runs his hands through his hair. He takes a deep breath. “I’m here to kidnap you.”

Victor blinks, gently sliding Makkachin off his lap and standing with limbs that feel too light. “But I thought…?”

Yuuri gulps. “I… I think that they don’t need you here. And that you don’t want to be here. It’s obviously made you miserable in the short time you’ve been back, and you don’t deserve that, no matter your lineage. You’re more important than a title you don’t even want.” He finally meets Victor’s eyes, his own shining in the starlight. “So if you’ll let me, I’m taking you away from here.”

A shiver of something warm yet freezing runs across Victor’s skin, almost making him vibrate with excitement. _Finally_. Except if he leaves the castle, if he runs away with Yuuri, lets himself be kidnapped, what is he? Who is he? “But… if I’m not a prince, if I’m not doing work at the castle, what will I do?”

“Anything. Nothing.” Yuuri shrugs, as if it’s really that simple. “We have all the time in the world to figure it out, and if you eventually want to come back, you can. That’s why we set it up as a kidnapping, that’s why I came as a stranger to whisk you away. You can say you escaped, and step back into the role you left. I’m sure my place back with my old gang still exists for me, but I left them not knowing what I’d do, not ever planning to go back. So, I’m offering you the same sort of escape. I’m…” His eyes flit around, trying to settle on anything else but always finding Victor again. “I’m being selfish. And I want you to be selfish, too.”

All Victor can think is that if Yuuri had asked him to jump off the edge of the world right then and there, he would have. But instead he asked for something that Victor wants, something that he craves deep in the heart of his being. He wants to spend time with Yuuri, with his family, with Makkachin. Maybe he’ll weasel his way in and wind up working at the inn for the rest of his life. Maybe he’ll take up fishing, spend his life on the vast ocean. Maybe he’ll decide to give sewing a try, since his own fine clothes will be harder to come by. He was so sure that he _had_ to be this prince, that there was no way out, that it never occurred to him the entire world would open up to him if he’d just taken a leap. If he’d only take Yuuri’s hand.

So he walks forward and takes Yuuri’s palm in his own, brushing the fingers of his free hand over Yuuri’s cheek as he leans in closer. “Okay. I want to be selfish.”

Yuuri grins, and it’s as if he’s the sun, lighting and warming Victor deep into his bones. He leans in, lips meeting Victor’s urgently, nipping lightly as Yuuri wraps his free arms around Victor’s neck to tilt his head, angle themselves together so that no negative space exists between the two.

When Yuuri finally pulls away, his smile hasn’t faded in the slightest, though his voice is a little rough when he says, “Let’s go home.”

He can’t help it, the tears begin to fall from Victor’s eyes even as he tries to rapidly blink them away so that he can see. He wants this moment to be burned deeply and permanently into his memory—Yuuri’s smile, their hands linked together, the weightlessness and unimaginable warmth of freedom and _life_ in his chest, burrowing into him. Still, he manages to smile, his voice cracking as he responds, “Yes, let’s.”

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I can't believe we're done? After so long, it's out there existing in the world?! Ahhhhh!?!?!??! I had such a blast in the participating in this bang--it was my first real foray into, well, any sort of fandom anything, and I met so many amazing and cool people. :D Thank you again to the marvelous Alli for their gorgeous art in the first chapter!!! And thank you guys for sticking with this ridiculous, extra fic until the very end!!!!!! I can't believe so many people liked it?! I expected, like, maybe ten people to read it. I hope that the end wasn't disappointing, and you don't regret the ride. <3
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> ~~Yes, yes, I'm getting back to Resplendent this weekend, you'll get your angst hit soon enough.~~
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